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asparklerwhowrites · 3 years ago

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Writing Indian characters, from an Indian person

India is a huge country! while most characters in mainstream media are from the 'big cities' i.e Mumbai, Delhi, Hyderabad, etc, there are many, many more places and areas to look at! since India is such a vast country, there is incredible diversity. 19,500 languages and dialects are present, with people of different skin, eye, and hair colors and types! there are, of course, a lot of inherent prejudices present, which I'll address a little later.

#1. Know their roots

There is no 'one' Indian experience. People from different places celebrate different festivals, worship different gods, and speak different languages!

A checklist of things you should know about your Indian character's background, in essence:

Which state and city/town/village are they from?

How many and which languages do they speak, and with what frequency? (Mostly, people can speak at least two languages!)

Are they religious? (more on religion later)

What are some of their favourite memories/moments linked to their culture? (festivals, family gatherings, etc)

#2. Naming your character

Some common names for boys: Aarav, Advik, Shlok, Farhan, Ritvik, Aarush, Krish, Ojas, Zain.

Some common names for girls: Arushi, Ishita, Trisha, Rhea, Riya, Zoya, Vedika, Khushi, Charvi.

Common last names: Shah, Singh, Agarwal, Banerjee, Dala, Bhat, Joshi, Iyer, Jain, Dhawan, Dixit.

Be careful while picking a last name: last names are very much indicators of the ethnicity/community you're from! most older folks can guess the ethnicity of people just by their last name - it's pretty cool.

Naming systems usually follow the name-surname format, and children usually take the last name of their father - but I believe some regions have a bit of a different system, so look that up!

#3. Stereotypes to avoid

This goes without saying, but I'm gonna say it anyway. Being 'Indian' shouldn't be your character's entire personality. Give them traits, feelings, and a purpose other than being a token diverse character. Some stereotypes that are really a no-no when it comes to Indian characters:

Making them good at math and academics in general (my Cs in math beg to differ that all Indians are good at math. often, the reason Indians are stereotyped to be so smart stems from an incredibly toxic and harmful environment at home which forces children to get good grades. unless you've experienced that, its not your story to write)

Making your Indian character 'hate' being Indian (not everyone?? hates their culture?? like there are many, MANY faults with India as a country, and it's important to recognize and take action against that - which often makes us iffy about how we feel about our country, it's genuinely not your place to write about that UNLESS you are Indian. don't bring in 'hatred' of a place you've never visited, and don't know much about.)

Make them scaredy-cats, 'cowards', who are good at nothing but being the 'brain' (I will literally behead you if you do this/lh)

#4. Why India shouldn't be portrayed as 'perfect' either

It's likely that most of you won't be going in SO deep with your Indian character, but India isn't the perfect 'uNiTy iN diVerSitY' as it's depicted in media. There are incredible tensions between religions (especially Hindus and Muslims), and even remnants of the 'untouchable' way of thinking remain between castes. There's a lot of violence against women, and misogyny is definitely something Indians are not foreign to. People with paler skin are considered to be 'better' than those with darker skin (in the older generations especially)

#5. Some common customs

Removing your shoes before entering the house, since your house is considered to be 'godly' and shoes shouldn't be brought inside

Eating dal (lentils), chawal (rice), sabji (a mixture of vegetables/meat that's cooked in different ways) roti (Indian flatbread) is considered to be a full, well-balanced meal and at least aspects of it are eaten for lunch and dinner (if not all four elements)

The suffixes -bhai (for men) and -ben (for women) are added to first names and are commonly used by adults to refer to someone of importance or who they hold to esteem.

However, 'bhai' (which literally means 'brother) is often used as slang when referring to friends or family. Other slang includes 'arrey' which is used to show irritation or 'yaar' which has the same context.

It's custom to call adults who you refer to in a friendly way 'aunty' or 'uncle', like the parents of your friends.

Talking back to your elders is forbidden, especially your grandparents who you have to refer to with utmost respect.

#6. Religions

India is a very religiously diverse country. The most common religion is Hinduism, then Islam, Christianity, Sikhism, and Buddhism. All religions have their own complexities, and since I'm a Hindu, I can tell you a little bit about that!

It's common to have a mandir which is a small altar dedicated to the deities your family worships. (Fun fact - they're usually placed in the East direction because that's where the sun rises)

Most kids can say a few shloks by-heart, which are a few lines of prayer! (lmao I've forgotten most but I used to be able to rattle off at least ten when I was younger)

Most people know at least the general plot of the Ramayan and Mahabharat - two famous epic stories. (I'm not sure if they're inherently 'Hindu' or not)

Many people wear necklaces with a small pendant of the deity they worship!

Common Hindu deities: Saraswati, Ganesha, Shiva, Krishna, Vishnu.

It's important to note that religious violence is a thing. Muslims especially, are oppressed and discriminated against. It's a very, very complex issue, and one that's been going on for thousands of years.

#7. Myth & Facts

India is a very poor country

Yep! Lakhs of people live in villages with no electricity, clean water, or amenities nearby. There's no point sugar-coating it. There are HUGE gaps between the poor and the rich (have you heard of Ambani and Adani :D) and while our millionaires rejoice in their thirty-story mansions, people die of famine, disease, and hunger every day. I am personally lucky enough to be EXTREMELY privileged and attend an international school and live in one of the most developed cities. Most people aren't as lucky as me, and it's a really true, horrifying reality.

Everyone in India is vegetarian

No lmao - while many people ARE, there's a greater and equal amount of non-vegetarian people.

We burn our dead in parking lots

This circulated back when the second wave was going on in India, and the media blew it out of proportion. First of all, what the actual f!ck. Cremation is a Hindu ritual, and by saying that aLL Indians burn their dead you are erasing the other religions here. Secondly, cremation is a sacred ritual only attended by close family of the deceased member. It does not happed in PARKING LOTS. It's a time of grief and loss, not a way to humiliate a religion for the way they treat their dead.

Drop any other questions about India in the comments/DM me!

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candythemew · 4 years ago

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OkLach headcanons?

Now you’re speaking my language! (Oh! And if anyone wants to ask me about headcanons about them with their skekling please send your asks my way! This is just gonna be main canon HC’s)

𝔚𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔢𝔩𝔰𝔢 𝔱𝔬 𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔟𝔲𝔱 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔟𝔢𝔤𝔦𝔫𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤?

✰ ︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧- - - - -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵✰︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧- - - - -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ✰

First off, when the Skeksis were young still finding the specific role, niche, and place that they fit into as they asserted their authority over Thra, SkekOk and SkekLach absolutely HATED each other. SkekLach saw SkekOk as a pathetic weakling who used his silver tongue and quick wit to charm the gelfling and other skeksis to do his bidding, and to buy into his way of thinking. Convincing people to do things they wouldn’t do normally through flattery and shallow promises. She didn’t like his pompous attitude and held more respect for the beings of Thra who put their thoughts into action like her. Ones who thought tactically, but weren’t afraid to take risks. She didn’t see what anyone saw in him. All she saw was just another one of the Emperor’s lapdogs. Spitting lies and weaving tall tales to uplift himself above the rest.

SkekOk however saw her as a brutish barbarian! Her avarice knowing no bounds as she raged and pillaged all those who stood in her way. Nothing befitting of a Lord of the Crystal. The gelfling worshiped her like a goddess, no doubt like they did the rest of his peers. But he saw the fear in their eyes. If the skeksis were going to rule properly, they must first create a level of relationship and trust between their subjects. Not fear. Although he himself was prone to flights of fancy, he found her ambitions foolish at best, and dangerously compromising to the empire at worst. Be it her insistence on the thrill of a good raid, or trying her hand at taming one of the most fearsome of beasts of Thra; The Arduff. He couldn’t stand it. Her amazonian demeanor made The Scroll-Keeper see her as nothing more than a ruthless brute. But at the same time, there was a tad bit of jealousy there. As many of his peers saw her as incredibly desirable and beautiful. As well as incredibly wealthy… Some had even attempted at winning her hand; only to be quickly shot down and berated by her. If he was being completely honest, he craved the attention that she received. She was always center of attention. At the time, she was the Emperor’s favorite. This jealousy led him to talk poorly of her behind her back. He stayed far from her as he spread rumors about The Collector in hopes to ruin her reputation. Although ironically over time, as they were forced to work with each other and face various trials with one another they developed a mutual trust after proving themselves to one another. And even saving each other’s lives a few times! If either of them were to be told at this point that they were going to eventually fall for each other, they would have laughed straight in your face! What a foolish thought? Why would I love them?! ✰ ︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧- - - - -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵✰︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧- - - - -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ✰

Their relationship went in an order similar to this:

Hatred ➺ Reluctant Respect ➺ Acquaintances ➺ Friends ➺ Mutual feelings ➺ Lovers ➺ Mates. ✰ ︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧- - - - -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵✰︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧- - - - -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ✰

𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔩𝔦𝔱𝔱𝔩𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰:

SkekOk tries to give SkekLach little reasons to keep her chin up. He reminds her to take care of herself and gives her little bits of advice to improve her life. Sometimes he’ll ask for her help for small tasks so she has something to do since she dosn’t have the same motivation she used to before her illness took over most aspects of her life.

SkekLach is the reason why SkekOk isn’t a dog person. One word. ARDUFF! SkekLach will intentionally follow SkekOk around his library and mess with his things if she feels like he hasn’t given her enough attention.

SkekOk suffers from narcolepsy, So SkekLach is there for him to make sure he arrives to meetings on time, or carry him to another room if she finds him asleep somewhere.

Insulting each other is a regular occurrence between them. Although neither of them have any ill intent towards each other when they do it. It’s like a game to them! Light hearted banter that calls back to their youth before they fell in love. Hence why SkekLach isn’t hurt when SkekOk says she was “NEVER BEAUTIFUL!” and then affirms is with a “Nevaaah~” if you pay attention to the scene, SkekLach can be seen laughing alongside him, even though she’s the butt of the joke. They’re both genuinely having fun bickering. I also personally like to HC that most Skeksis find simple gestures of affection peculiar and strange. Like everything in a skeksis’s life, gestures of affection are showy and grandiose. But OkLach’s more subtle and slow approach confuses their peers. They can make each other laugh very easily. They know how the other ticks. One of the things that made skekOk fall in love with hre was SkekLach’s ability to make him genuinely laugh his lungs out! His teasing can also cause a similar reaction. SkekOk’s laughs arranging from childish giggling, to incoherent teary eyed laughter! Although not as strong as she used to be, the other skeksis are still wary of SkekLach due to her past reputation. Also because she’s not afraid to give you a disease if you REALLY tick her off. She acts as sort of a bodygaurd or wall for SkekOk when he shoots his mouth off or gets in trouble. Nobody’s going to get him except through her! ✰ ︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧- - - - -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵✰︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧- - - - -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ✰

𝔓𝔥𝔶𝔰𝔦𝔠𝔞𝔩 𝓐𝔣𝔣𝔢𝔠𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫:

Intertwining tails is a very very intimate thing in Skeksis culture. It shows that you genuinely care for your friend/partner and that you enjoy their presence. For a human it would be kind of like a really good hug. But sadly, SkekLach lost a part of her tail long ago. So doing this is near impossible for them to do unless they’re sitting right next to each other or laying down beside one another in bed. Instead, they have adapted to holding hands like the Gelfling do. Be it for comfort, taking a walk together, or just to feel close. Heck! They do it so frequently that sometimes they don’t even realize they’re doing it! It’s become somewhat of an involuntary habit for them. When they sleep together, they like to cuddle. SkekLach is the big spoon. Sleeping is hard for her, (I personally HC that she has insomnia) but she sleeps better if she has something to hold on to. Thankfully SkekOk likes being held so this arrangement is perfect. It’s just comforting for both of them.

They don’t “Kiss” often. I think you can imagine why. Pustules leak and it’s NASTY

The Scroll-Keeper sometimes has the habit of resting his head on top of The Collector’s when he’s tired. Neither of them have much hair to preen anymore, but sometimes when they’re alone, in their more intimate moments; skekLach will take off her cowl for skekOk to preen her mane. Her hair has a coarse texture. It’s color mostly grey with small streaks of a faded black. Salt and pepper if you will. It’s a small bit of beauty she still retains even in her disgusting, decrepit state. However, it’s only for his eyes as she’s very self-conscious. ✰ ︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧- - - - -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵✰︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧- - - - -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ✰

𝕷𝖔𝖛𝖊 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝕸𝖆𝖗𝖗𝖎𝖆𝖌𝖊~♪ ♫ ♩

SkekOk and SkekLach are mates. And they have been a mated pair now for the past 400 years. If the Skeksis care to have any sort of marriage/mating ritual, they have done it. You bet your bottom dollar that it was extravagant! A true fairy tale... They can only see each other as life partners and want to make sure that everyone else knows it. Especially SkekLach. Who is known to be dreadfully greedy of her most valuable possessions...

Much like how many birds mate for life, Skeksis do too. Although being a rather (for lack of a better word) promiscuous race, this is rare. If two develop a strong enough bond, they’ll stick together in an attempt to feel whole. Only sticking with said mate for the rest of their lifetime. However long that may be. Their much more steadfast and patient Mystic counterparts also share this trait. (By “their” I just mean the race as a whole. Nobody specific.) Ok and Lach have their own chambers made for themselves. But they also have a shared bedroom that they occasionally sleep in together from time to time.

SkekOk is a hopeless romantic, and SkekLach couldn’t care less when it comes to flowery poetry. But she admires his passion to his interests. Something she lost desire for in her own life. The Scroll-Keeper will occasionally write her poetry and love letters expressing his feelings to her. Sometimes, in return, she will write him something back. Although riddled with intentional grammar mistakes and poor spelling. Sending him into a flustered angry mess as he corrects her. Only to find something even worse written down as he continues. He’ll read these aloud for all to hear. SkekLach likes to see the reactions he’ll have to her writing. What can she say? He makes her laugh. ✰ ︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧- - - - -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵✰︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧- - - - -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ✰

𝓢𝔞𝔡 ℌ𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔠𝔞𝔫𝔬𝔫𝔰 𝔲𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔠𝔲𝔱: ︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧- - - - -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵✰︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧- - - - -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

SkekLach’s death hit SkekOk harder than anyone will ever know. She was a part of him. She was his closest friend, and the love of his life. His mental health suffered immensely from her loss, and he was never truly able to grieve her properly and move on. Instead, over time he developed an unhealthy coping mechanism of talking to himself for hours on end. He pretended that she never left his side. “No gelfling trick could have ever gotten the best of me!” She would boast... Eventually he started to hear her voice in whispers... He could swear he could hear her voice from just beyond the hall... Down the corner in her chambers! Only to find an empty room devoid of anything but dusty old trinkets and bittersweet memories. Other times he would hear the distinct metal clang of her blades against her opponent’s weapons as he would wander the now garthim-filled training rooms. He could hear a younger, much more determined tone! Calculated and precise. Once again to wander in and find nothing but empty training grounds chock full of the dark arthropodan soldiers. But it was the nights that were the hardest. On cold starless nights, laying alone in his decadent yet lonely chambers, he would lie alone for hours on end, eyes closed as he tryed to let the soothing grasp of sleep claim him... In the uttermost difficult moments as he drifted off to sleep, He could swear that he could feel her arms wrapped around his scrawny frame. Tails intertwined as she softly whispered a tired “I love you.” Gently leaning her head on his shoulder, The Scroll-Keeper let out a sigh of relief as he fell sound asleep in the arms of his lover... Only to be greeted with an empty bed as he rose once again the next morning. Truly cementing the fact of how alone and incomplete he truly is. He only wishes for these delusions to stop and yet... He can’t bear to let her go... ✰ ︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧- - - - -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵✰︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧- - - - -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ✰ Sometimes these hallucinations can get so bad that he’ll fall into manic babbling fits where the voices of not only her, but all sorts of beings from his past will haunt him. After these spasms, he returns to his work or simply passes out due to exhaustion. He apologizes for his random outbursts should someone he cares about see him in this state. If he even remembers they were there at all. ✰ ︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧- - - - -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵✰︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧- - - - -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ✰

Remember when I said that skeksis mate for life? Well that grief an animal or human might face hits just as hard to a stone-hearted, cold blooded skeksis as it would to any man. That sorrow that SkekOk faced upon SkekLach’s sudden death caused him immeasurable psychological and emotional damage. As the Skeksis are naturally selfish beings. Besides the support he would receive from his lifelong friend SkekEkt the Ornamentalist, not many were there to comfort him. If The Scroll-Keeper were able to relive one last day with The Collector, even for just a moment. He would do it in a heartbeat. Savoring every second like it was his last day on Thra. ✰ ︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧- - - - -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵✰︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧- - - - -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ✰

Although she doesn’t admit it to anyone else, disguising her distaste of herself under a veil of irony and self deprecation, SkekLach has issues with loving herself. She constantly reminisces over “The glory days.” The skeksis are a dying race and she knows it. They can’t fool her. And on that topic, she’s the worst of them on that regard. Due to her hideous appearance and the immense emotional and physical pain she endures everyday, sometimes she wonders if SkekOk even loves her at all. Is he only staying with her because he has to? Out of obligation, or does he just pity her? Does he wish she were like the skeksis she was all those centuries ago? She struggles with this fear more than she’d like to admit.

SkekLach feels extremely insecure about the fact that she can’t intertwine her tail with SkekOk’s due to her traumatic injury that left her with only half of her tail remaining. SkekOk, having a much longer flexible tail will often try to wrap it around her waist if they’re sitting right next to each other. The feeling is bittersweet, but much appreciated. ✰ ︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧- - - - -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵✰︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧- - - - -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ✰ In the main timeline, SkekOk and SkekLach did attempt at having a baby. But since the skeksis are completely infertile in that universe, they yielded no results. They keep a small handmade doll in their shared bedchambers of what could’ve been the skekling that they had wanted so badly. Its not much, but it helped them cope and move on. ✰ ︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧- - - - -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵✰︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧- - - - -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ✰

𝔗𝔥𝔞𝔫𝓀 𝔜𝔬𝔲 𝔣𝔬𝔯 ℜ𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔦𝔫𝔤! - ℭ𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔶𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔐𝔢𝔴

#OkLach #SkekOk #SkekLach #the dark crystal: age of resistance #Dark Crystal Headcanon #SkekOk x SkekLach #skeksis #The Dark Crystal #skekok the scroll keeper #SkekLach the Collector

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roguetatertot · 5 years ago

Text

Waiting for That Pie

Based off the prompt “The Great Pot Pie Tragedy of ‘95. And the Fallout After” from @twocatstailoring. Just in time for Pi Day!! Happy 3.14! (Finally my silly Cloud drawing from 2012 has a purpose)

Fandom: Final Fantasy VII, Crisis Core Rating: General Audiences. Warnings: Mild language. Very mild.

Pairing: Cloud Strife and Zack Fair Special Thanks: @darknae for looking it over and editing! Summary: Cloud and Zack share an inside joke about pie together. But for Cloud, it means more than just silly banter between them. Knowing no other way to convey his feelings, Cloud sets out to bake Zack a pie, and to deliver it in a very special way.

Read on AO3 | Read on Fanfiction.net

If there was one word Cloud would use to describe Zack Fair, it wouldn’t be heroic. It wouldn’t be puppy. The word ass was often used in Cloud’s vernacular, and he had been known to utter kronidiot in his native Nibelwegian tongue from time to time. There was a revolving use of nerd, dork, and dummy—all used with affection of course.

But the one word Cloud would reserve for Zack, and Zack alone, was clown.

From the moment he met Zack in Modeoheim, during their evolving bond, and through the comforts and safety of a relationship, Cloud would dub Zack this moniker whenever the chance presented itself. With Zack and his antics, that chance happened often.

“You clown,” Cloud would say with amused sentiment.

“If I’m such a clown, why aren’t you throwing a pie in my face?” Zack would say, his tone equal to Cloud’s jest, but with its own challenge as if daring him to do just that.

It was confusing to Cloud at first, as the only type of pie with which he was familiar was the savory and hearty chicken pot pie of the Nibelwegian culture. To be struck in the face with such a thing was baffling, but Cloud chalked it up to perhaps cultural differences, or an idiom which was lost in translation.

Whenever Cloud was having a rough day—which was more often than he liked to admit—Zack’s penchant for oafish behavior would come alive. He was quick to get Cloud to laugh, or share a small smile with the customary, “You clown” at the very least. Zack would nudge and pester Cloud with a variety of responses, such as: “I’m still waiting for that pie!” or “Where’s the pie in my face, huh?”, or even, “The day you throw a pie in my face will be the day I truly become a clown!”

Despite the peculiar notion, this exchange became like a bit that they would perform, a tradition which was as meaningful as any hug, kiss, or I love you. It was their own inside joke, something which brought familiarity and warmth during good times and bad—much like the chicken pot pie itself.

It was something Cloud appreciated so much so that he felt unable to convey how important this ritual was to him. Often he found himself at a loss when thinking of a gesture that would come close to letting Zack know how much his love and levity meant. The only thing he could think to do was to indulge Zack’s request of being smacked in the face with a pie.

Cloud wasn’t much of a cook. He wasn’t much of a baker. He wasn’t much of anything beyond using a can opener and pressing buttons on the microwave. But for this, he wanted to truly apply himself. This meant scouring the internet for recipes, watching videos on how to properly use a rolling pin, how to flute the edges of the crust, using fresh peas and carrots instead of frozen. He practiced boiling and shredding the chicken (which was overboiled to essentially rubber on his first try), and after trying three recipes for different crusts, he decided to go with the one calling for butter and shortening instead of lard.

All this had to be done in secrecy during the times when Zack was away on assignment. Aside from being very adept at getting Cloud to laugh, Zack was also very good at getting Cloud to spill his secrets; it was hard to resist Zack’s charm, and Cloud was determined to keep this as a surprise until he produced the best pie he could.

After several somewhat successful attempts (as one time he had forgotten to slit vents in the top crust, causing it to practically explode; and another was so burnt it looked like he had cast Firaga on it), he had a pie he felt was worthy of clownery.

As eager as he was to heighten their tradition to a whole new level, Cloud had the better judgment to wait until the pie wasn’t a molten disaster waiting to happen. It took a lot of planning, but he timed the baking and the cooling of the pie with Zack’s return from a long mission with expert precision. By the time Zack texted Cloud that he was leaving the mission debriefing, the pie was at a comfortable temperature—somewhere between a suggestive kiss and a warm hug from Zack. It was a strange metric with which to measure one’s pie, but an apt one given the circumstance.

Now Cloud was standing behind the front door, ear pressed to the wall to listen for footsteps approaching. There they were—step after step—but Cloud was too anxious to notice they were heavy with unusual strain for someone like Zack the Clown. He rushed to the kitchen, scooping up the pie too quickly that it swayed in his palms. He veered with it in a balancing frenzy, pivoting on his heels right as the door opened.

With as much grace as one could have while throwing a heavy, hot pie filled with chicken and vegetables, Cloud let the symbol for his love fly from his hand, and straight into the weary face of Zack as he entered.

Tender and flaky crust crumbled from Zack’s eyes as he blinked. A rich and substantial filling dribbled in ribbons from his chin. Fresh, perfectly diced carrots and peas globbed onto his chest. And the juiciest chicken one could ever imagine was now the welcome mat on which Zack stood.

“Hah! There’s your pie!” Cloud shouted triumphantly between his laughter and the sounds of the food splatting onto Zack’s boots.

“WHAT THE HELL!” Zack bellowed, his hands tearing away bits of shredded chicken from his eyes as though he had walked into a thicket of dusty cobwebs.

Cloud’s laughter died in an instant.

“Who throws a chicken pot pie in someone’s face?!”

It was an eternity before Cloud spoke. He stood unmoving, save his eyes to watch the last few peas roll down Zack’s nose and drop onto the floor. “Y-You said pie,” he finally murmured. “I-I’ve only ever had chicken before. Wha … What kind did you mean …?”

Zack stammered at first, amazed and dumbfounded—he was clearly not in his usual jovial mood. “Banana cream!” he shouted, looking down at the savory mess in his hands. “Custard! Chocolate silk! Y’know, a DESSERT pie that you hit clowns with!”

It was Cloud’s turn to stammer. Squeaks and sounds escaped his agape mouth, all he hoped would convey his immense regret, but none came close.

Zack suddenly broke out into a smile. Whatever fatigue he had carried in from his mission was now sloughing away like the last bits of chicken pot pie on his face. He began laughing, pausing only to lick his lips of the filling and tasting the love which flavored it.

Cloud tittered nervously, watching Zack with hesitation as he approached. Cloud could now feel the warmth between them, that metric which defined the tenderness and the heartiness of their bond. He returned the smile Zack was giving him.

Zack reached up, holding a hunk of the pie at Cloud’s eye level. He chuckled, turning the contents of his hand to view it from all sides with adoration. “You clown,” he said before smashing the pie in Cloud’s face.

End

#cloud strife #zack fair #clack #zakkura #zackxcloud #final fantasy vii #crisis core #final fantasy vii crisis core #ffvii #ff7 #final fantasy 7 #fanfic #fanfiction #drabble

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lupinepublishers · 5 years ago

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Lupine Publishers | Where are the Real Trend Setters?

Lupine Publishers | Journal of Fashion and Textile Engineering

Editorial

Trend is word that has a fleeting meaning but is it? When a trend is seen coming on the surface of the society then it is more than what people need or desire. It is an expression of their culture, their social needs and their creative expression.

Trends Indeed is Unfolding of a Hidden Myth, Ritual or Culture

When the trend of corset came in 1910 it brought in a new culture in the society. It takes the idea that pain is beauty to a whole new level. A whole new industry was build round it. Not just this but a culture, a life style and a cosmology were created. But what happens when a trend dies. It has a particular poignancy. I wonder at times, why does not all trend stay in the society, is it not a loss of diversity, a heritage and a thought process.

When does trend move into being a Heritage and What do we do to that Trend as a Society

Some 880 trends died this century, I was reading somewhere. There is fatalism behind these numbers. Isn't it a way of life lost? The danger is to the small industries that get set up to sustain that trend. Why isn't this seed taken forward? When we do trend analysis, then what do we calculate. We search the reasons of its evolution and its growth and then fading out. But do we also take in consideration of the loss of culture, myth and storytelling when a trend dies. As a storyteller I have often wondered, would we have had the story of Ras leela of Lord Krishna, if the trend of community bathing was not there in ancient Indian culture. Because when that trend disappeared, well so did the stories of Ras leela (Figure 1). And we have to be aware of the fact that trends of fashion and print evolve from the community or social trends as we call it. For example during the Jazz Age, Cloche hat became increasingly popular because women loved the look of cloche hat paired with their Eton cropped hair.

But how do we not let off those trends which are heritage and iconic. It's like death of languages, a culture and a context gone forever. Is keeping them in museums and encyclopaedia enough or should we not utilise them as platforms of innovation, growth and experimentation. Each and every trend is a sign that society is expressing itself and that social fabric is democratic enough to allow individuality to flourish and expand. Not only this, we need to create kaleidoscopic places where different trends are juxtaposed and one switch between them as we shift contexts. Translation of a trend into a new interface is an important act of holding the myth of that trend together and giving it a life so as to organically evolve into a new user experience, keeping the natural flow and essence of trend alive.

We need to invent Cultural Citizenships as a part of our Creative Imagination

There is a tribe in hills of Kumaon, in India which has its own tantric prints for the bridal dresses. I clearly remember it being a part of everyday ritual till I was a young design research student but now we see people making it into a heritage property and those iconic prints are now on the verge of extinction. (Figure 2). A world that fails to be inventive about its own culture and stories eventually will be reduced to rudimentary, technical and structured living where fashion, beauty and myths have no place. Another thing that has guaranteed the disappearance of organic growth of trends is the structured curriculums of the design institutes. It is very interesting to note that a group of design students might be seen wearing same trends aspired by vogue and Bollywood where as a illiterate worker even with his meagre sum will be seen more differently and culturally dressed in many a different ways. Why is it so?

Figure 2: 3 Kumaon Aipans.

India and many such countries that have more than 3000 years of cultural history need to create a new social and creative consolidation to keep the pluralism of trends and self expression alive. Else trends coming and going will no longer be multi dimensional and multi cultural but will be centralised and of a single context and lifestyle. And the world will lose its creative spectrum. One needs to move to more polyglot world to sustain diversity of expression, lifestyle and experiences. I have also noted that death of trend and its social culture often go together. In India, many textile design trends are dying out as their cultures and villages are getting engulfed by cities, Television and internet. The intrusion of the corporate world is pushing them inward and in that processes each community is losing its expression and hence stopping the trend to evolve and come into surface of the society. No corporate or government thinks that loss of self expression (trend) by a group of people is something to be worried about.

People need to feel free to create their own trends and be able to nurture it. They need to feel that self expression in many different ways is relevant, posses' dignity, defines competence and is an important way of survival and growth. A trend disappears as new generation enters modernity, abandoning memory and older ways of life and living. So we in our own ways of development and growth need to keep the diversity alive and form a social and cultural fabric where people who are edgy, trend creators can become more expressive and prolific. Come let.com become a trendy world, in the real sense of culture, diversity and history- A world where trends evolve from the real self expression of people, culture and experiences.

For more Lupine Publishers Open Access Journals Please visit our website: http://lupinepublishers.us/ For more Journal of Textile Science and Technology articles Please Click Here: https://lupinepublishers.com/fashion-technology-textile-engineering/

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ivendarea · 5 years ago

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The Gideya

United in Tragedy, Spirituality, Devotion

Banner art based on and supported by my Patrons ♥

Once one of the largest ethnic groups of the Nyr the Gideya coined the nation’s name: “Ivendarea” - the Cradle at the Green River. Spread far across the vast lands west of the Skyreach Mountains the Gideya have been a people of farmers from the very beginning, deeply spiritual, and fiercely protective of their homes. In passion only rivalled by the Gaanar, and despite not known to be warriors, they bravely fought many battles against Zerenda’s forces during the Invasion War, not holding back and going in with all they had - crowned by success on most occasions.

The most devastating blow that changed their world forever came very recently with the destruction of Maan Ganyr during the Revolution War, a bastion of faith and main homestead to more than two thirds of the whole Gideya population. Spread thin in their original homelands, having suffered great losses, the Gideya now live everywhere and nowhere, still trying to recover and rebuild from utter destruction.

Table of Contents:

Culture and History

Cultural Heritage

Language and Dialect

Shared Values

Common Ettiquette

Historical Figures: Erraia

Art and Architecture

Fashion

Ideals

Beauty Ideals

Courtship Ideals

Relationship Ideals

Continue reading below or on World Anvil

[Support the Ivendarea Project on Patreon]

Culture and History

Cultural Heritage

The majority of the Nyr tribes roaming Ivendarea before the first talks about uniting as a nation were even considered were hunters and gatherers. The Gideya though have been farmers from early on. They had discovered that the valleys and plains west of the Skyreach Mountains are particularly fertile farmland. It was reason enough to stay in the area where the land provided plenty.

Over time, as their population and demand grew, the Gideya developed and invented means to keep food fresh over longer periods of time, making farming more effective with advanced tools, and figuring out ways to increase the fertility of the earth even in areas where growing plants didn’t seem possible at all at first. Their knowledge and achievements in farming later also enabled groups like the north-eastern Wylaai to begin profitable farming in the cold north and everywhere else where it had been unthinkable before the tribes united. The Gideya also have a history of being strongly spiritual. A lot of the good that happened to them in the early days they ascribed to being particularly blessed by the gods. Still calling a rich variety of seasonal festivities to honour the gods and seasons part of their cultural heritage, they also helped shape many of the rituals that are now a central part of the Aman’a Valeethi - the followers of Aman’s teachings. Aman felt tremendously at home in the community they found among the Gideya, who in return felt that Aman was a kindred spirit. Many of the Gideya among their followers who helped put together Aman’s Teachings described a spiritual connection from the moment they first met.

Even after Ivendarea had been united, many of its peoples still had their own religious views and practises, and the Gideya, who were predominantly farmers, already at this point didn’t practise animal sacrifices - or sacrifices in general - to soothe the gods. This resonated strongly with Aman, who had left Panthil amongst other reasons but particularly for the sacrifice practises at the local temple there, as described in the famous children’s tale “Aman and the Sacrifice”.

It is not surprising therefore, that the “cult” shaping around Aman’s teachings had its origins in the area of later Maan Ganyr, and that the majority of Aman’s early followers were Gideya that helped spread their teachings across the nation.

Language and Dialect

Most Gideya speak several languages. Their brand of the native Nyrval tends to be very melodic and a little drawn-out sounding in comparison to the neighbouring dialects that are either harsh and fast or smooth and flowing. The Gideya have a lot of modulation in their voices and their accent - also when speaking other languages - is often described as “singsong”.

Shared Values

The Gideya are known to be gentle souls in general, very connected to nature and deeply rooted in their homes. Spirituality and religion are as important to them as is being a nurturing member of their community. The Gideya value family life and tend to have big, often far-spread families. Many Gideya are also talented mages and alchemists and value knowledge and education greatly. While they don’t see themselves as warriors, they don’t shy away to fight when they need to protect their homes from foreign forces. This goes back to ancient times, when tribes of the Sylai, Wylaai, and Nathras had formed the first ever alliance to attack the Gideya in an attempt to steal their supplies. Completely taken by surprise and not knowing how to fight back against the warriors of these tribes, the Gideya swore to never have something comparable happen again. So while it is true that they have a calm demeanour, therefore being mistaken as peaceful and naive victims, they are actually very calculating and observant of potential dangers to their way of life. Resistance, peaceful or not, is just as much a value taught from an early age as is devotion to one’s homeland, religion, and family.

They did not back down when Zerenda’s invasion forces threatened their lands, and with guerrilla tactics - knowing their lands, the surrounding forest and valleys like the back of their hands - kept succeeding in fighting back the Assadin all on their own for a long time.

During the occupation of Saratheas before and after the Cleansing they helped smuggle former citizens out of the city and into safety and begun small sabotage acts against Zerenda’s forces, making his residency in Saratheas as much of a nuisance and discomfort as possible.

Not causing a war has always been a priority for them. Resistance and disobedience to an abusive government? Definitely. War that destroys homes and families and causes suffering? Never. This is why, despite legendary personalities of Gideya resistance such as Erraia, the Gideya are generally very resentful towards late Iovana Rava, Iovana Panmorn, and the Omrai Omvalis and their sympathizers. Rava and the Omrai Omvalis caused a civil war mainly fought on the Gideya’s lands, destroying ancient buildings dating back to the early days of the nation. Many Gideya fought in the conflict and lost their homes, not exactly because they wanted, but because they had no other choice if they didn’t want to be slaughtered by king Alund and his forces or be driven out of their homes. The Omrai Omvalis caused the war, Rava didn’t stop it from escalating. And, to top it all off, in the darkest hour of the war Panmorn teleported Avon Maan, one of the most important spiritual sites of the nation, out of the burning city of Maan Ganyr to a “safer” location in order to preserve it. The Gideya felt betrayed, robbed and completely hopeless, and they are no supporters of Panmorn’s isolationism and the divide his actions during and after the Revolution War brought upon Ivendarea.

At the same time though, of course, they are just as resentful towards the Assadin rulers who also did nothing to prevent this war from happening. Alund escalated the situation and ravaged the lands of innocents because they happened to be caught in-between the two fronts of the conflict. This is why the Gideya hate to take sides, grim and resentful towards anyone who thinks themselves in the right and superior over others. They believe that anyone having “the best” in mind for the nation will achieve the opposite.

Common Etiquette

Politics is something not to be discussed in casual settings, as it is a sore spot for many Gideya especially in recent years. Also, as a people with a strong sense of community, it is considered rude to refuse offers for help or in return, not offer help when someone else needs it. Sharing resources and workforce are commonly taught, and while personal space and property is valued, too, it is rare to find all doors closed and no-one available to help in whatever endeavours in a predominantly Gideya community.

Historical Figures: Erraia

Referred to as the “mother” of the movement of the Omrai Omvalis, Erraia was originally a peaceful revolutionary who led a small movement of resistance against king Ulden and his abusive government. When Erraia’s movement began to grow and even gained support from Iovana Rava, Ulden sent soldiers to end their assemblies - with tragic consequences for all involved. After a fire started by Assadin soldiers destroyed her hometown, Erraia agreed on a plan to assassinate king Ulden which was partially successful but also resulted in her arrest and public execution a few days later. She has become a figure of legend and a martyr for the Omrai Omvalis.

The Gideya value knowledge and sharing it - not doing so and being overly secretive and possessive regarding, for example, a family recipe, is considered selfish and rude. Openness, the Gideya believe, is essential for the growth of a community, as is owning up to one’s mistakes. Those who obscure a mess-up or mistake made, even if it was something small, are (gently) reproached. Spirituality is important, and joking about it is not well-liked, particularly coming from outsiders of a community. It is also a matter of great joy, and everyone is always invited to join religious festivities, no matter if they are a believer or not. Being a very communal people, the little available personal space is treasured. Usually there is at least one room in each house not open to visitors at all, even closest friends, that can be used as a place of refuge, quiet, and meditation. Temples in the area also have these private rooms, and since the nation was united they have become more common in other areas too. It is almost sacrilegious to disturb or forcefully entering this space when someone is inside already.

Art & Architecture

Being the first people that had permanent settlements in Ivendarea, the Gideya traditionally are referred to as the first builders or master-builders of the nation. This is somewhat true, somewhat not; of course all groups of Nyr have their master-builders today, and not every Gideya makes a great architect. This way of thinking stems mainly from the fact that only with the Gideya’s original input it was possible for many of the other tribes to begin building cities as quickly as they did. The Gideya had the base knowledge about what building materials and ways of construction to use to get stable structures - but everyone else contributed their part in questions of design and developing unique new building types fitted for a variety of purposes and regional challenges. Predominantly Gideya villages to this day could hold on to their small, picturesque farm buildings’ charm of old. Made from natural stone and other regional materials they don’t seem particularly advanced or special at first glance, but are definitely very comfortable. One will quickly learn though that in addition to the endearing exterior all Gideya structures are built with great thought and a very specific purpose in mind, no matter if farm house or temple. The most famous examples of Gideya architecture and design are probably the tower Avon Maan, originally situated in Maan Ganyr, since the Revolution War located in Panthil, as well as of course Maan Ganyr itself and large parts of Saratheas. The city’s circular design is an essential part of Gideya architecture, reflecting their strong religious beliefs and sense of harmony, while the buildings within the city more strongly reflect the bold aesthetics of the Sylai.

Fashion

The Gideya wear predominantly practical clothing, coming from their background as farmers, but a lot of religious symbolism can be found even in the most basic everyday tunic. A typical outfit consists usually from only 2-4 items that can be worn in at least two different ways, making the same outfit suitable for a large range of weather and environmental conditions or for both every day and festive occasions.

Blue is a very common colour, as it is associated with religiousness. Similarly warm, earthy tones, as well as accents of green, for example in jewellery or as decorative stitching on seams are commonly seen. The fabrics are light and flowing, comfortable to wear in the hot and humid summer months, and during the cooler seasons layers of heavier, thicker fabric are added.

Ideals

Beauty Ideals

The Gideya love to let their hair flow freely and among the Nyr as a whole they also often wear it much shorter than other groups, as it is more practical during work on the fields in hot humid weather. Physical strength is considered attractive, as is a warm and welcoming personality. Willingness to work hard and not being upset about having to do dirty work are virtues and sought-after particularly when building relationships.

Courtship Ideals

Courtship can be a comparatively long-lasting phase, to get to know each other well and imagine what a future together would be like up to the smallest details. A more direct approach is often preferred, clearly speaking about boundaries and expectations.

Timing is important, too, and a matter of respect and etiquette. Flirting in religious and spiritual settings is an absolute no-go, as it shows that the one flirting isn’t taking spirituality serious enough. It is also considered selfish to lie about one’s true intentions, for example asking someone for help to work in the fields, in fact though only wanting to spend quality time together in a secluded area.

What is appreciated though is spending time together during work or prayer. Walking to the temple together or bringing each other self-made lunch to work in the fields or forest are small but well-liked and often-seen gestures among couples whose relationships are beginning to blossom as well as between life-long partners.

Relationship Ideals

As many things in Gideya communities, relationships are taken rather seriously and are a spiritual matter. Two or more souls felt a connection and somehow managed to find a way to connect to each other across time and space. Soul-Bonding ceremonies are more common among the Gideya than any other community, predominantly among established but also a comparatively high percentage of younger couples. It is believed that due to the Gideya’s great emphasis on spirituality and high percentage of soul-bonded couples the majority of souls are reborn into their old communities to find each other again. Relationships are definitely meant to last and to build a life together, partners are chosen carefully, and not always something has to blossom from even the most lovingly planned out courtship phase. Like the fruits on their fields, love needs to be treated like a rare seed if something strong and fruitful is supposed to grow from it.

[Read on World Anvil]

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#ivendarea #original setting #fantasy society #worldbuilding #fantasy writing #writing #article: peoples #the gideya

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mythlived · 5 years ago

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Odd numbers for Nikita!

❛ You gotta dig a little deeper !

Might be worth checking the tags on this one before reading through, just in case ! Most of them are pretty harmless, but better safe than sorry.

1. What does their bedroom look like ?

Nikita, despite being the only of his team that doesn’t have to share a room with anyone else, has the room with the least personality. In fact, it doesn’t have much of anything in it aside from the bare essentials. He has an alarm clock, a few sets of season-appropriate bedding ( his favorite set is the flannel that Marley made him get the winter that SCAR’s heat went out solely because it’s as warm as it is ), a dresser, a mirror, and exactly one plant—a cactus that he almost let die twice before Marley finally taught him to take care of it and some other kinds of plants; it’s been with him for a long time. And aside from the basic necessities like toiletries and what not, that’s it. His walls are bare, he doesn’t have any pictures, nothing. He’s trying to make it very clear that he doesn’t plan to stay with SCAR after the mission to bring down Arsenal is all said and done, even if his team doesn’t know that. The only exception to his “Nothing Sentimental” rule is the single bookshelf that he uses half of the allotted space for books and half for gifts he gets from his team.

Fun Fact: Nikita is the only one on his team that doesn’t have to share a room for three reasons. One is that he’s a team leader, the second is his claustrophobia. The dorms that SCAR requires they stay in aren’t small, per se. They have private bathrooms, washing and drying units, and small kitchenettes. But they’re essentially studios, so between the lack of windows in the SCAR dormitories and the generally cramped space when two or more people are living in the same one, it pushes the line a little bit since he’s already a particularly simple person when it comes to decor and belongings and having someone else’s cluttering up the space pushes him to just this side of uncomfortable. The third, and most important, is his ability. Nikita has a tendency to lose control of it while he’s sleeping. He’s woken himself up time and time again by accidentally hitting every nerve ending in his body because of a particularly vivid nightmare. It’s mostly because of that last one that he requested to be kept separate from his teammates when SCAR gave him the opportunity to pick them.

3. Do they exercise, and if so, what do they do ? How often ?

Nikita exercises religiously. On-mission he does what he can. For example, while gathering info on Rhys and Rasmus, he does things that won’t draw any attention to him, like running early in the morning and in the evenings when it’s cooler, push-ups, sit ups, etc. simpler things. Off-mission, he does a lot of sparring with his team. Typically, when off-mission his day consists of training sessions, sometimes with the whole team, but most often individual one-on-one sessions so he can cater to what each teammate needs to focus more time on or sparring sessions with the other team leaders ( there are two ! ) within SCAR. However, he does do days off, too. Even when not sparring, his team has set training schedules that Nikita has made for each of them that they adhere to, but he also strictly enforces rest days so his team doesn’t get overworked physically or mentally ( though he has more control of the former than he does the latter, but he does what he can ). His own exercise schedule outside of sparring when off-mission consists largely of weight training since he does a fair bit of cardio while on-mission.

5. Cleanliness habits ( personal, workspace, etc. )

Nikita is… sparse in all that he does. So while he’s doing something like cooking or knitting, he may have a messy little corner that he’s using, but as soon as he’s done, everything is put back in its proper place and left there until he needs it again. He doesn’t shuffle things from one place to another unnecessarily and he has a very specific shelf in his living space for things that he gets from the team ( Marley and Roka are particularly consistent gift-givers ) and even half of that is used for books, which he also doesn’t leave laying around, even when he’s in the process of reading one. He puts it right back on the shelf where he got it when he’s finished with it. This partially comes from not wanting anyone outside of his team that comes into his living space to get that little bit of insight into who he is outside of his professional persona. The less they know about him, he figures, the better. But, this translates into everything that he does. He’s like this with his desk, his kitchen, his laundry, his bathroom, his bedside table, his storage, everything. Anywhere he goes, he has the same habits, everything is neat, in its proper spot, and not being shuffled from one place to another.

7. Favorite way to waste time and feelings surrounding wasting time

Nikita doesn’t like wasting time, at all. In fact, you’d be hard pressed to actually get him to waste time. However, Nikita is also one of those people that very rarely finds himself thinking something is a waste of time in the first place. Participating in the team’s shenanigans ? Movies nights with the team ? He’s learning about the team and about ever-evolving popular culture. Relaxing ? Physical and mental health are important to success both in and out of the workplace. Reading ? Popular culture, cultural differences, history, etc. he’s learning, which means it isn’t a waste of time. Honestly, you name it and he probably has a reason it isn’t a waste of time, especially if it’s something his teammates enjoy doing or something that he’s taken a liking to.

9. Makeup ?

Nikita doesn’t wear makeup on a regular basis, but he’ll wear it if a mission calls for it. He’s not overly fond of it, but he doesn’t have any kind of aversion to it—physical or otherwise—either. But he doesn’t have any knowledge about it aside from what he’s learned via his teammates, which turns out, is not a lot. Rila and Roka are the two most knowledgeable about it.

11. Intellectual pursuits ?

Nikita is particularly fond of intellectual pursuits because they keep him busy. He likes to have something he works on learning thoroughly while off-mission. Sometimes those intellectual pursuits are languages and sometimes they’re history from various places, math, coding, or anything else that piques his interest. Usually, it’s something that he can learn from his teammates and in the beginning it was always something he could learn from them. He used that as a way to learn more about them and how people interacted in an environment that didn’t require him to be hostile toward the individuals and groups around him.

13. Sexual Orientation ? And, regardless of own orientation, thoughts on sexual orientation in general ?

Nikita is bisexual and demiromantic. His thoughts on sexual orientation in general aren’t super in-depth. He doesn’t care how other people live their lives as long as they aren’t hurting he or his team and that’s not something that could hurt anyone on principle. So he doesn’t care about anyone else’s orientations unless it directly effects him and, most often, it doesn’t. Plus, he figures that hating or spewing vitriol at someone for who they love is a cheap shot and makes you a shitty person—and that’s coming from him. However, he did witness Marley’s struggle with her romantic and sexual orientations and how she was reconciling that with her faith. Helping her through it had been just about beyond him, because it was very early on in their partnership ( and very early on as far as his separation from Arsenal goes, as well ) so he was at a loss on both her religion and any personal experience with romantic and sexual orientation. Luckily, it had been enough for him to sit and listen and peruse multiple pages from Google to help her along as best he could and that’s how he came to the conclusion that he did.

15. Biggest and smallest short term goal ?

His smallest short term goal goes back to his intellectual pursuits. Right now he’s trying to learn Spanish from Luca, even though it’s currently on-hold since they’re all on-mission. His biggest short term goal is to finish the current mission ( whether that means Rasmus ends up dead or Pyrrha prevails, one or the other, he doesn’t care ) and get on with the whole down-with-Arsenal shtick that SCAR has going. This, of course, leads into his long term goals, but that’s another post.

17. Preferred mode of dress and rituals surrounding dress

Nikita’s actually really picky about his clothing, but more the material than the style. He doesn’t like materials that are even slightly itchy, too hot, or rough. He’s particular about it because sometimes his ability makes his nerves jump when he wears something uncomfortable. It’s a lot of casual clothing, like t-shirts, jeans, nice jackets, etc. When off-mission, it’s a lot of active-wear since he spends about seventy percent of his day exercising and just can’t be bothered to change until he showers. Otherwise its lounge wear because he can. He literally goes to meetings with the other team leaders and higher-ups in his pajamas sometimes, his etiquette is atrocious. But he produces results—good ones—so they don’t say much about it. As far as rituals surrounding dress go, he doesn’t have any conscious rituals surrounding it, but he has found that he has the overwhelming habit of putting his left sock on before his right one and now that he’s aware of it he’s paranoid that if he stops doing that it’ll be bad luck or something like that. This thought is courtesy of Iris, who actually noticed the habit first after their sparring sessions.

19. What do they think about before falling asleep at night ?

Nikita does his level best not to think a single thing while he’s trying to fall asleep, but fails miserably every time unless he’s completely exhausted. This often leads to a fairly wide variety of things he thinks before he falls asleep. Sometimes he’ll recite language vocabulary in his head if he’s having a particularly bad day and doesn’t trust letting his thoughts wander. Other times he’ll think through what he can do for his teammates to make their training schedules better for each of them to avoid unnecessary fatigue or adverse physical reactions ( like how to keep Iris from overworking himself or what’s best to do for Rila’s asthma ! ) while they work to keep themselves fit physically and mentally. On especially rare nights when he’s feeling relaxed and, for the most part, fine, he lets his thoughts wander a little more. It’s nights like these where he ponders where he’s at now, emotionally, socially, mentally, even physically. However, if they start to wander in a direction he doesn’t like, such as where he’s been in his life before, he traps them back into those routine thought processes, whether they be vocabulary, training itineraries, mission prep, or even just going through recipes he’s memorized.

21. Turn-ons ? Turn-offs ?

Nikita’s general turn-ons and turn-offs that more or less decide if he likes someone are pretty typical. If he’s comfortable around them or they don’t care to put up with his incredible awkwardness at first and they just don’t give off a bad vibe, they’re essentially okay in his book, whoever they may be.

As far as physical turn-ons and turn-offs go, Nikita’s scarcely had the time or the trust in someone to actually figure those things out. He knows that he doesn’t like anything that causes unnecessary pain, because that’s liable to set off his ability with the already overwhelming emotion that typically comes with being at all physical with someone. Nikita’s had one night stands, but they’ve hardly ever been anything more than something he’s essentially forgotten afterward, whether it be mission-related ( this is not a topic easily broached with Nikita, because SCAR has made some pretty shady decisions on this that have affected one of his teammates ) or otherwise.

Overall, Nikita doesn’t really know specifics of physical turn-ons and turn-offs because most often he’s had other things to worry about in place of figuring those things out.

23. How organized are they ? How does this organization/disorganization manifest in their everyday life ?

As mentioned earlier, Nikita’s very particular about how everything is organized and kept, at least in his own personal space. Which means he’s very good at keeping things organized, regardless of what it is. As far as how it translates into his everyday life, it’s in small gestures like putting the salt or pepper back where it goes in a restaurant, exactly as it was found or moving a package of pens back to its proper spot in a department store. Those little things are subconscious tics that some of his teammates find enduring, partially because he actually gets mildly irritated over it when people don’t put things back in department stores, despite him never having worked retail. He does not, however, get mildly irritated if the salt or pepper in a restaurant somehow doesn’t end up back where it’s supposed to go. And it isn’t just those things, but those are two pretty common examples. It also manifests when they find themselves having to stay in hotel rooms rather than safe houses, in loaned vehicles, etc. because out of the entire eight person team, Nikita and Luca are apparently the only two that can actually keep up with the proper documentation for both of those things and when Luca is stretched thin trying to keep up with the literal children on the team ( Iris, Marley, Kári, and Rila ), Nikita’s the last line of defense for receipts, room cards, cash, keys, and other things of that nature. He hasn’t failed them yet.

25. How do they see themselves 5 years from today ?

If all goes well, Nikita sees himself not having to worry about Arsenal or SCAR, because as indebted as he feels to the latter organization, his skepticism about what they’re doing is second to no other. Maybe it’s because of the way he grew up or the way they approached his “reintegration into society” ( as if he doesn’t work for yet another secret organization ), but he doesn’t trust them any farther than he can throw them. His team he trusts, but they were all hand-picked and are people he spends enough time with to know they’re trustworthy. ( Even if he thinks Luca is plotting the whole team’s demise, that’s separate from SCAR, his own coup d’état. ) But ultimately he’d like to branch out away from SCAR, even if he knows that fitting into any other little niche in the world is going to be overwhelmingly difficult. Now, whether that happens in five years or not is the big question.

27. What is their biggest regret ?

Nikita will, for all intents and purposes, always state that he doesn’t regret anything because regret is a useless emotion. This, however, is not entirely the case. The one thing that Nikita regrets and regrets more each day that he thinks about it is never having gotten to know his little sister and little brother and never planning to. That he has to keep up with them in other ways, just to make sure that his parents really are raising them well and not treating them harshly or forcing them into something they don’t want, puts Nikita the closest he’s ever been to heartbreak since his parents essentially sold him to Arsenal. But if they’re happy and as far away from his world as they can possibly get, then he’s fine. He can handle the regret and the heartache that comes with that, as long as they’re healthy and not in danger. And because of that latter part, he’s very discrete about his siblings and his own minor involvement in their lives. His team doesn’t know and he’d be hard pressed to actually mention them to anyone unless it was absolutely necessary.

29. Reaction to sudden extrapersonal disaster ( eg. The house is on fire ! What do they do ? )

Nikita hopes to literally all that is holy that SCAR never ends up on fire, because he doesn’t trust the entire building and the surrounding area not to explode if it does. Not that he’d tell anyone, but the thought of it actually causes a fair bit of foreboding within him. But his actual reaction to something like that would be far more understated than that. He’d probably panic the least out of everyone he knows at SCAR, whether it be his team or the other two. While he’d be fairly disappointed over the fact that he’s lost all the gifts his team has gotten him, his books, and bedding, he’d just be glad no one is dead. He’s come to expect the worst out of things like that, which is a leftover reaction from his time at Arsenal, when extrapersonal and intrapersonal disasters were never accidents, no matter how much it was drilled into their heads that they were. But ultimately, in comparison to the rest of his team at least, Nikita’s reaction would be very mild. He’d be inconvenienced, but that’s about the extent of it.

31. Most prized possession ?

His cactus and his flannel sheets. Also any of the gifts his team gives him. He’d sooner keel over than tell them how much they mean to him, but they do mean a lot and he occasionally just has to look at them and wonder if any of it is real, because a few years ago he would have either ignored or attacked the nervous system of whoever told him something like this would eventually be his present.

33. Concept of home and family ?

Nikita’s concept of home and family, for a long time, was skewed at best, because his own blood related family were the people who sold him away to the abuse and experimentation. He thought, for a long time, that perhaps family was an inherently bad thing. Especially seeing people like Rasmus, whose parents were the proprietors of the whole operation, and others that had been in a situation similar to his own—or that he figured had been since the vast majority of them didn’t remember anything about their families. There were so many of them that had been abandoned by their families and then Rasmus was essentially the icing on the cake for his “family is bad” theory. His thoughts on home were much the same. Arsenal was “home” and the very last place he wanted to be. However, his perspective on home and family, though it took a long time and is still evolving at this point, shifted a lot after his team was established and he started to get more comfortable around them. Nikita’s concept of home and family, now, consists overwhelmingly of his team. It’s a general, very vague concept, but he’s grasped the understanding that family and home really isn’t who you’re born to or where, but rather the people and places you grow to care for. That said, he hasn’t yet reconciled his concept of home and family with his eventual goal of leaving SCAR. Though he likes to plan, this is the one time he supposes he’ll jump that hurtle when it gets here and hope it doesn’t trip him up.

35. What activities do they enjoy, but consider to be a waste of time ?

As I mentioned earlier, Nikita doesn’t like wasting time and at this point, anything he does enjoy, he doesn’t consider a waste of time. He subconsciously finds a way to make it meaningful, so anything he does consider a waste of time he just does not enjoy and absolutely will not do it. He somehow even manages to make himself feel like paperwork for SCAR isn’t a waste of time. It’s the only reason he can ever actually get it done; he doesn’t enjoy it but has to do it, so it better not be a waste of time. His reasoning is getting more and more desperate with every new bout of paperwork after a mission. Luca is continuously amused by Nikita’s private pep-talks every time they start filling everything out.

37. Are they more analytical or more emotional in their decision-making ?

Nikita is hands down more analytical. He very rarely makes an emotional decision. In fact, his emotional decisions are reserved for his minor major worries about Iris, Rila, Marley, and Roka, and his siblings. Nikita is glad that his emotional state is far more evened out than it was in his past, but he still doesn’t quite trust himself to make decisions that are emotionally charged. Not only that, but if he started making emotionally charged decisions, that would mean he was emotional on-mission. Given his spotty control of his ability—even if it was much better than it was when he’d been extracted from Arsenal—that could be an incredibly bad thing.

39. What recharges them when they’re feeling drained ?

Nikita recharges himself by the sheer force of his will most days. If he didn’t, he would feel drained constantly and neither he nor his team can really afford that. He does his best to find other ways to recharge, like knitting with Marley, working through whatever his chosen project is for the time, napping, or doing something that requires minimal movement, but Marley is particularly high energy, his projects take effort to actually learn, he can seldom make himself nap, and just sitting around doing nothing is one of the rare things that falls on his “waste of time” list. So the only thing left is to will himself to recharge. Which, sounds entirely implausible, but he tells himself it works, at least.

41. How misanthropic are they ?

Nikita actually isn’t all that misanthropic. Despite how he might come off, he really doesn’t mind people all that much. In fact, he’s very keen on some people and genuinely enjoys socializing when he finds a kindred spirit of sorts. He’s shameless and often fifty layers of awkward before he ever actually relaxes around someone, but he really is the kind of person that leans more toward being fond of humanity as a whole than he is someone who thinks they’re all bad just because of his life up to this point. As long as there’s growth and change, he figures things aren’t too bad, even if it’s hard fought. He is, however, realistic and doesn’t think everything and everyone is sunshine and daisies. In fact, it’s the opposite. But, that he was given the chance to grow and change. . . well, he figures if he can do it, other people can too.

43. How far did they get in formal education ? What are their views on formal education vs self-education ?

The formal education question is tricky, because it was definitely a formal education, but it was all catered to Arsenal’s standards. He has a high school diploma and a college degree that would, technically, stand if under scrutiny because they were issued by an accredited university of sorts. However, he stands by the fact that he can’t really have an opinion on traditional formal education given his was anything but. His opinion on his own formal education, though, is exactly the same as his opinion on Arsenal as a whole. He doesn’t trust much of it, so his self-education has been important and extensive in the last five years. He’s found that he has far more practical knowledge now than he did before. Which, of course, comes from actually traversing outside of the walls of SCAR.

45. Superstitions or views on the occult ?

Nikita doesn’t think a lot one way or the other about the occult. He’s a walking science experiment, so the thought that ghosts and magic and the like might be real honestly isn’t that weird to him. That said, he’s a “believe it when you see it” kind of person, on principle.

47. If they were to fall in love, who ( or what ) is their ideal ?

The thought of falling in love is very seldom something that Nikita entertains. Not necessarily because he’s too busy for that sort of thing ( even though he is ) but because he’s absolutely certain he would put someone in danger. Not to mention he’s never harbored feelings like that before, so he doesn’t see why he should start now, though he also doesn’t think he’d be incapable of feeling that way toward someone ( perhaps he’s more optimistic on that count ) if it came down to it. It would certainly take a lot of trust in both that person and himself. Trust in the latter that, currently, he just doesn’t have. Even if he did find that he had fallen for someone, he’s far too volatile emotionally and ability-wise to truly offer them anything that might be remotely acceptable. And, if he were to fall in love, it would have to be with someone that he’s willing to drop every wall to and someone like that would be remarkable, as far as he’s concerned, which would mean they would deserve nothing less than the best; something that he can’t—and perhaps will never be able to—give them.

49. If this person were to get into a fist fight, what is their fighting style like ?

Nikita’s fighting style is fairly flexible based on his opponent. Most often he’ll decide how to fight based on the person he’s sparring with. For example, he’s a little more ruthless, quicker, and less likely to leave himself open even while on the offensive when he’s sparring with, say, Marley, Kári, or Luca. When it comes to sparring with Iris and Rila, he slows things down a little more and is apt to leave himself open for a variety of reasons, whether it be to lure their hits or to offer them the opportunity to learn the best way to go about attacking him in those open spots. When it comes to Asanka, Nikita uses more brute force than he does anything else. Then there’s Roka, the pacifist of the group but also the quickest and most cunning of the lot, who Nikita chooses to spar with defensively lest he take another bruising shot to the ribs. Nikita’s fighting style is, purposefully, catered to teach. That’s his top priority when it comes to being able to fight, but he does have a default that he falls back on if the need or him to fight someone outside of sparring sessions ever arises. It’s not nearly as clean-cut or fair as the fighting styles he uses with his team, though.

#duskwilt #more on 13 eventually!#bc that was v important to Marley #⚔ ( salvaged ) ━ hc.#long post #claustrophobia //#i don't think there's anything else to tag #but if there is and i missed it #pls tell me #also nikita clearly marches to the beat of his own drum #dubious consent //#that's a 'better safe than sorry tag' about headcanon 21 which will be expanded on in Roka's bios or headcanons eventually!#bio*

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southeastasianists · 6 years ago

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In the home of this Hindu family, there is a Catholic altar as well as a Buddhist altar. Here, there is a place for different gods and religions because that is the philosophy this family has known for generations.

Mr Rishnaiswaren Pillay recalled how his paternal grandmother used to bring him and his brother to Malay shrines, called a keramat, to pray and give offerings.

“My grandma always told us that all religions are one and that we’re all humans after all. When we cut our hands, we have the same (coloured) blood,” said the 30-year-old business analyst.

“We don’t let go of the Hindu practices. It’s just that … we have add-ons.”Acceptance is a word he uses, as does 71-year-old Ponnosamy Kalastree, who is from the same community and also goes to different places of worship because “all religions preach good things”.The ability to accept not only different religions but also cultures is “in our DNA”, said Mr Ponnosamy. And that is the DNA of the Chetti (or Chitty) Melaka community – the Peranakan Indians.“I always used to say, ‘Chetti is three in one,’” he said. “Basically we’re Indians, but we’ve embraced the Malay and Chinese culture.”The community stretches back centuries. But its age-old culture has been eroded and is at risk of vanishing.

There are now around 200 Chetties recorded in Singapore, and it was only in the last decade or so that concerted attempts have been made to preserve their practices, from their language, food and dressing to their way of thinking.

They may be little known, but the likes of Mr Pillay and Mr Ponnosamy see reasons to hope.

CHETTI-STYLE QING MING

The Chetti Melaka are the oldest Peranakans in this region, descendants of South Indians who first settled in Melaka during the reign of the Melaka Sultanate (15th to 16th centuries) and married women of Malay and Chinese descent.

The word ‘Chetti’ means merchant, and these pioneering traders adopted many of the local Malay and Chinese cultural influences over the years.

As Mr Ponnosamy often tells his wife Dora, a Chinese Singaporean, she is “quite lucky to marry an Indian like me because I’m well-versed in the Chinese culture”.

One of the most important Chetti customs, for example, comes from the Qing Ming Festival, a Chinese tradition also known as the tomb-sweeping festival.

Unlike the usual Indian practice of cremation, the Chetti followed the Chinese custom of burial in the past.

And when the time came to pay respects to their ancestors, they too would visit the graves, clear the weeds and make offerings.

“You’d put the various types of food, cakes and all that … put the flowers round the whole grave, then you’d light the joss stick,” described Mr Ponnosamy, who is the president of the Peranakan Indian (Chitty Melaka) Association Singapore.

This is followed by a mixed ritual called Bhogi Parachu, ancestral prayers incorporating Indian and Chinese elements.

At home, the Chetti would fill banana leaves with their ancestors’ favourite foods – as Indians would do – while lighting red candles according to Chinese prayer customs. It is a reunion day of sorts for Chetti families, “when everyone comes together”.

“Parachu was a big part of my life when I was young,” said Mr Pillay. “Because it was a day, apart from Chinese New Year and Deepavali, when we had crowds coming into our houses.”

But these days, especially since his grandmother is dead, it is too great an effort for his family to cook all their ancestors’ favourite dishes, so Parachu is now a small affair for him.

Mr Ponnosamy has also seen a gradual loss of this tradition as more Chetties convert to other religions. He has relatives, for example, who do not want to eat the food offered because they are Christian, he said.

“They’re confused between culture and religion,” he added. “They don’t realise that this isn’t Hinduism.”

DISTANCE MAKES A DIFFERENCE

One person who is able to reconcile his religious beliefs and his culture is Bible teacher Devastry Parasurama Bok, known simply as David Bok. He was born a Hindu, but becoming a Christian did not detract from his Chetti identity.

The 70-year-old permanent resident thinks, however, that the Chetti in Singapore have it tough because of that distance from Melaka, the heart of the Straits Indian culture.

One of the festivals – the most important one in the Chetti culture there – that is still going strong is the Datuk Chachar festival every May, a 12-day event dedicated to the Hindu goddess Mariamman.

She was given the name Datuk Chachar because she is known to cure ailments like chicken pox (chachar in Malay). Families used to return for the festival, but hardly so nowadays, as polytechnic student Sathyavani Balan Krishnan discovered.

When the 23-year-old recently visited her maternal grandmother’s birthplace to understand her roots, she learnt that the community in the Chetti village get to see their relatives only for a day now, if at all.

And since her grandmother died when she was eight years old, “it just felt very weird that there was this whole other tradition and culture going on that we had no idea about”, she admitted.

The thing is, a lot of them looked like my relatives. The features were all so similar, so it was a bit eerie.

Indian Heritage Centre curator Nalina Gopal agreed that youngsters like Ms Sathyavani have become distanced from their roots. “Where family history hasn’t been preserved, there might be a loss also in terms of their own Chetti Melaka antecedents,” she added.

One of the differences between Singapore and Malaysia is language, and that is another reason for the loss of the culture, as the Chetti traditionally speak a Malay patois infused with Tamil and Mandarin. It is called Chetti creole.

“So if one generation passes, that disappears too,” said Mr Bok.

Mr Pillay used to speak it a bit with his grandmother. He called her nenek, as the Malays would. Mr Ponnosamy’s daughter Sheila did likewise, growing up not realising “there were other terms that the Indians call their grandparents”.

In creole, grandfather would be topeh, according to Mr Sithambaram Muragason Pillay. “The ‘to’ is from Malay, the ‘peh’ is from Chinese … so they mixed it,” he said.

His son, who grew up speaking Malay, is now hoping to relearn Chetti creole.

OF DRESS AND FOOD

The westernisation of Singapore has not helped, including in terms of dress, said Mr Ponnosamy.

Traditional Chetti outfits reflected the styles of the Javanese, Bugis, Acehnese, Batak and Tamil. But generally, the men would wear the Malay sarong and batik shirts.

Meanwhile, the women would wear the sarong kebaya just as the Peranakan Chinese would, but incorporating Indian elements such as a thali, the gold chain worn by married women, and the pottu (dot on the forehead).

These days, dressing up the traditional way would be possible only on “grand occasions”, said the younger Mr Pillay, which he sees as one of the reasons it is difficult to “prove to (others) that we’re proud to be Chetti”.

“If you happen to (enter a temple in a kebaya), there’d be societal pressure from other Indians in the temple who’d say, ‘Why don't you use a sari?’”

When it comes to food, Chetti cuisine is a blend of Indian, Malay and Peranakan Chinese styles. But as both Mr Pillay and Mr Ponnosamy attest, their daily choices veer towards the Malay and Chinese options.

Mr Ponnosamy said: “If you ask me to go to Banana Leaf (restaurants) every now and then, I can’t eat. Because it’s too Indian. We have to have our mixed type of food.”

Sambal goreng rather than typical Indian curry, added his 47-year-old daughter. And definitely the kueh-kueh. She said:

When I grew older … I realised the Indians in India had a different palate for desserts. They have the laddu and other types of sweets, so it’s very different.

There is no Chetti restaurant in Singapore nor even one in Melaka, according to Ms Gopal.

But the real conundrum for the community is how interracial marriages, which go to the core of their identity and are becoming more common in Singapore too, is contributing to the loss of lived culture.

“Some of them don’t consider themselves to be Chetti any more,” noted Mr Pillay.

The Chetti are “so accepting of differences” that ethnic intermarriages may cause them to be “absorbed by majority cultures”, agreed Ms Gopal, 34.

But that may not be the case for all. “The degrees are varying for each family, depending of course on their own personal journey,” she said.

And she believes that cultural aspects such as food – “which is devoid of any religious overtones” –language or even dress are what people can “reconnect with their Chetti Melaka-ness”.

HOPING FOR THE NEXT GENERATION

In terms of a physical place, there is a Chitty Road in Little India, indicating the community’s historical presence here. But that is now a “very small street” that few people associate with the Chetti, said Ms Gopal.

What has been a real marker for the community’s revival, however, was historian Samuel Dhoraisingam’s book Peranakan Indians of Singapore and Melaka, published in 2006 by the Institute of Southeast Asian Studies.

It was launched by the late President S R Nathan, who encouraged members of the community to “take advantage of the momentum and start an association”, recalled Mr Bok.

By 2008, the association was registered, with Mr Ponnosamy also as one of the founding members. It started off by doing mainly research, talks and workshops, culminating in a 2014 symposium titled The Lost Tribe of Chetti Melaka.

“That raised awareness, and you got some Chetti Melaka coming out of the woodwork. Because you don’t know who they are, you see,” said Mr Bok, himself a prime example of that point, with his Chinese looks.

Now, on an even bigger scale, the exhibition Chetti Melaka of the Straits: Rediscovering Peranakan Indian Communities is being held at the Indian Heritage Centre, which may spark memories for anyone who might have overlooked their Chetti roots.

Mr Ponnosamy hopes so. “The hope is to encourage the younger generation to come forward,” he said. “You have to do your own research, your own family tree … but obviously, you’ll definitely know that somehow or other you’re (Chetti).”

That was the case for Ms Sathyavani. Her father is a Malayalee Indian, but because her grandmother was from Melaka, she assumed that she was also Peranakan, though “not specifically Chetti”.

Despite not practising the rituals, save for enjoying the Chetti dishes her mother would cook occasionally, she would “hate to see” the culture gone because of her generation.

“I want to be part of the community and the youth who document this (culture), and that’s something I’m looking into,” she said.

However, it cannot be just a matter of obligation, said Mr Pillay, whose mother is a Tamil Indian.

“I’ve a lot of friends who say that 'actually my grandma is Chetti, actually my granddad is Chetti'. But they don’t practice, or they don’t visit our village,” he said.

“It’s just a choice of whether you want to proudly say that you’re a Chetti or your roots are from Chetti.”

The early signs are positive. Since the exhibition opened last month, the Peranakan Indian association’s membership has doubled to around 200. And Mr Ponnosamy estimates that there could be as many as 5,000 Chetties here.

But that is not the key thing. “(The exhibition) is meant for members of the public who are Chinese, Indian and Malay,” he said, stressing that the different communities must make an effort to mix to develop the Singaporean identity.

“We can’t say that ‘we’re Indian, okay you’re Chinese’. No, we want everybody to be together … They should be one. We’re one.”

#Southeast Asia #Singapore #Peranakan Indians #Melaka Sultanate #People #Identity #Heritage

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soulfulauror · 6 years ago

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The topic I’m bringing you today is one that I’ve grappled with for nearly as long as I’ve played Tina: Jewishness and the Wizarding World with respects to Tina.

Let me preface this that while I’m a conversion student (reform) I’m not from a Jewish family myself. Although I’ve started to practice religiously I cannot and will not call myself an authority on the matter for ethnic/secular Jewish people. As this is also a headcanon post while I will touch on minute details of my research I will not express every nuance, but I am happy to share texts and ideas.

Being a wizarding Jew: Religious or Ethnic? One of the biggest misconceptions I’ve seen in the FB fandoms in regards to the Goldstein sisters is that their relation to their Jewishness has to be religious. It does not. The Jewish people are one of the oldest people with written history, language, and culture in the world. There are people born Jewish, by Jewish law, that do not practice religiously and don’t believe in a higher being. This is the first thing I like to make a point of when writing either of the girls: They don’t have to be religious.

America in the 1920s in relations to Judaism: Like many different ethnic and religious groups there was a spike in immigration by the Jewish people in the 18th through 20th centuries. In particular, in the 19th century immigration happened due to Russian pogroms. Antisemitism was on a global level with Henry Ford in the United States writing propaganda in the early 20th century.

The 19th century also saw the introduction of a new form of Jewish movement in Baltimore, the Reform movement. Jewishness on a religious level within the United States was broadening. There were “modern” Jewish plays on Broadway. The introduction of the reform movement was considered a revitalization by some and in other ways, it was pulling away from a traditional Jewish identity in a time where being Jewish was dangerous and on a global scale unwanted by peers. This only heightened post WWI where the Jewish people were considered the “problem” and we know what happens from there.

New York in the 1920s had one of the largest Jewish populations on the planet and today still holds the second largest (after Israel). Different census says that the Jewish population at the time was anywhere between 30-50% of the population and reached a high in the 20s*. This means the wizarding population of New York would have, subsequently, had a large Jewish population and their own cultural identity.

Religion and witchcraft. This is a topic that I consider on all types of levels-- For a strict, orthodox Jewish person the idea of witchcraft would be considered against the Torah. For Conservative and Reform Judaism it might change a bit. But even for Orthodox Jews for the wizarding world it might be considered “an exception”. For this I’d like to direct you to a fanfiction about an orthodox Anthony Goldstein: here who explains the concept far better than I can. The idea essentially is that if not doing something (practicing/learning sorcery) will become a danger to others is it strictly wrong. And in this case, we know that magic can act explosively if not handled properly and, if repressed, results in an Obscurial.

Jewishness also has pagan roots and it’s own mysticism in Kabbalah. Early temple era practices involved ritual sacrifice (largely of animals that eventually got written out). I haven’t done enough research into Kabbalah itself to want to firmly say anything on it but a quick definition is, “ Practical Kabbalah in historical Judaism, is a branch of the Jewish mystical tradition that concerns the use of magic. ... “ Sukkot is, in a sense, still one of the most pagan-like traditions held.

So what does this mean for Tina and how does she handle her Jewishness? Well, not that we got the highlights of what I consider about her identity itself down let’s discuss Tina’s history itself:

Regardless of what debates may come up I will always write Tina as ethnically and religiously Jewish. Full stop. However, I also consider the effect that having lost her parents would have here. For my version of Tina I write as if her parents died somewhere in between her being 8 to 9-years-old. By this age she has a more firm grip on how her parents treated their own identities and it’s part of the cultural values she grew up in.

However, that was over fifteen years ago and for 9 of those years she would have been in most of my verses an orphanage (and I have reasons for that and I’ll write a headcanon on that one day). And when she wasn’t she was at Ilvermorny which, instead of collaborating cultural identities seems to be like England and no-maj America more Christain based. I’d like to think in a perfect worl children would be excused for religious holidays to practice, but given how religion is non-existent in this world it’s doubtful. So she went to a secular boarding school where Christmas, Easter, etc would have been the major holidays.

Still with me? Cool. So now that we’ve gotten all of the bits and pieces together that I’ve considered for Tina the fun part comes in:

I write Tina as culturally Jewish, led by Jewish morals and ideals, without a belief in g-d.

By the time her parents died Tina’s morals would have been formed and these are the things I have written into her character. Without dwelling on it long I’ll lift some titles from one of my favorite works Jewish Wisdom by Rabbi Joshua Telushkin on this. “When to Give, What to Give, How to Give,” “Helping the Helpless,” “The Obligation to criticize, How to do So, and When to Remain Silent,” “Listen to her voice,” “Either friends or death,” “A Person is Liable by his Actions”.

These are just some of the passages in this work that I feel plays into Tina’s character and I try to subtly put in. Because I do feel like that I shouldn’t have to constantly say she is Jewish for her to be Jewish-- Action speaks just as loudly as words and that’s what, to me, fits Tina best. So when I write her I consider how the Torah and Talmud would work and this Jewish morality, not necessarily adhering to mitzvahs (though she does to many, but she doesn’t live by them).

Saying she doesn’t feel religiously Jewish, however, doesn’t mean I don’t feel like she does nothing either. The interesting thing about Judaism is that you are allowed to grapple with it and come at your own terms. It’s that reason that it’s completely possible for wizarding Jews to be religious too-- Because it’s all about finding your own identity with g-d.

Tina’s had a difficult life, though. She lost her parents at a young age, she’s seen cold nights with no food, struggled to be successful and it’s always been something she had to do on her own. It’s not necessarily that she doesn’t believe in g-d she’s just come to terms with h him in her own way-- And this way is more of a spiritual reflection than anything.

She does believe in the holiness of Yom Kippur, for example. It’s the one time of year that I write she asks for off and insists on. Any other holiday she’ll work if she has to, but this is the one time she pressed for because it’s a period of reflection for her-- She’ll work through the week leading up after Rosh Hashanah but she earnestly takes the time Yom Kippur gives to understand herself, come to terms with what she did during the year, and it’s also a time she pays respect to her parents.

Tina’s Jewish identity for me is directly connected to the loss of her parents. After they pass away she has no reason to go to shul anymore, no reason for prayer, other than daughterly obligation. Again, she lived in an over-crowded era where kids like her would have been extremely lucky to eat properly. She’d have no reason to believe in those circumstances, but se still tried.

Every year without fail Tina lights a candle on Yom Kippur. She’d save up whatever nickles she could find when she was little. And now on the anniversaries of their deaths she visits their gravestones and places a rock. When she was old enough to give Queenie anything on Chanukkah she’d present her a single present, not much and it took too long to get the money for it--

--But for Tina she’s a woman who holds onto those memories and moments with her parents. She lives in her mother’s old apartment, wears their old clothes, keeps a locket that I personally write as her mothers. Holding onto these small moments is like holding onto a piece of them.

Tina is also a bit of a scholar as seen with her various books and I don’t feel that ends on the magical spectrum. She does earnestly want to know about the background she comes from, so she’s read the Torah and she reads scholastic works. And occasionally if she’s off at the time she walks to the nearest shul on Shabbat mornings.

Her Jewishness is a part of her and it’s something she grapples with. A younger her was angry at the concept of g-d allowing her parents to die, an older her understands that some things happen and it’s how you deal with them, the strength that pulls you through that happens. That there are no guarantees and what you can do is by acting with just and moral decisions. And that’s exactly how she lives.

Kosher is something I waffle on and this goes back to the remarks of “Hot dog, again? ...Not a very wholesome lunch.” Which I and many others do think is supposed to go back to that, but again I think it’s much more complicated-- Technically eating pork/non-kosher/what not is allowed if there’s nothing else to eat and you’ll starve otherwise. So I think as a child, before her parents died, Tina ate kosher-- But after they died it became eating whatever came by. That included pork or dairy products or whatever was there.

As an adult she does try to eat kosher for the most part, but she also eats at a matter of convenience. Hot Dogs could be kosher, but stand ones are unlikely so she probably justifies it by she needs to eat and she doesn’t know (and Waterston has saidt hat Tina gets so stressed out/works so much that she forgets to eat). There’s also some Jewish people who eat kosher in the home by don’t outside of it simply because of the idea they don’t actually know if a place is entirely kosher (since strict Judaism calls for such foods to not even be cooked on the same utensils).

The last and final element I consider is the fact that Tina is a woman who has high morals, strong loyalty, and a constant work-ethic. What this means is that although I feel she asks for at least one holiday off a year she doesn’t stress the others-- Her spirituality is more important and she can’t justify taking many off. Especially not during the High Holidays in the fall when you’re not /technically/ supposed to work for a month. She simply can’t afford that and I’ve read a few articles where even on Shabbat if it’s a greater loss to you (ie: money/food/etc) it can be justified and since her Jewishness is more spiritual than religious...

Well. Tina is a practising Jew, within the confines of the life she’s been given. She is very culturally Jewish and knows Yiddish and Hebew passably enough, Yiddish more so. She’s even a scholarly Jew, wanting to learn what she can even if it’s not necessarily something she makes part of her identity. Tina is very proud of being Jewish and holds it close to her heart as part of her parents. She’s just not a Jewish person who has quite come to concepts with her own idea of g-d or if one exists for her.

I would go on but this is already long and I think this covers quite a bit of information without going into my feelings on Tina versus period-antisemitism.

Thanks for coming this far if you have!

#headcanon ✘ an uncomplicated act of kindness

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pom-friend · 6 years ago

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First Starlight - Hikari

From a Discord prompt.

The sky grew paler as autumn came to its repose to make way for winter. Though the days had been cut short, and the waters and winds of La Noscea's shores had grown sharp and cold, it didn't deter the little girl's daily ritual of standing at the edge of the shore, until her feet were swollen, raw and red and numb from the cold, the seawater rushing in through her shoes and soaking them down to the soles.

Her guardian had at first tried to discourage this behavior, but found that doing so only made her more sullen. So he came to her with the terms that only when she was clear within sight of their home, and only when he was present in its walls, could she take her trips to the shore. She had never responded one way or the other, but nonetheless, complied. Never before had the man been responsible for rearing a child, much less one not of his own nation. She was entirely an enigma to him, a gangly ghost who hadn't yet grown into her long limbs, silent to the world since the day she had come into his care.

The man supposed that he couldn't blame her. She was present to see her own mother succumb to illness, delusional and speaking to imagined specters, her body failing itself before the child's very eyes. And her father had made himself distant; disinterested, disappointed, saddled with guilt, and his own progeny's silence only vexed him further. He had spoken critically of his daughter before, lamenting her trivial, savage interests and the meek timidness of her nature. But his wife's death had only further widened the divide between the two. A harsh man, he was, and difficult to understand, certainly not fit to comfort this child with her foreign sensibilities. He needed privacy to grieve, and with war before them, the Empire was in need of his skills. As cold as it seemed, country came before family.

So it was his friend, and the appointed godfather of the girl, who came to take her in, and took her away, far from Othard, from Doma, from the familiar banks of the One River, to live with him as he worked under the name of another man. The timing, though he loathed to admit it, was fortuitous. A man with a family would fall under less scrutiny than a man who lived in solitude.

But so persistently silent was she, so adamant to refuse to respond to anything, whether it be casual chat or a question of her preferences, that the man felt he may as well have been alone. There was nothing he could tell of what the girl felt regarding him, if she felt anything at all, and she would constantly try to leave to stare at the horizon. Her interests changed only a few times, to focus instead on the sea birds, or a scuttling crab, or even in one instance, a Bloodshore bell (MUCH to the man's concern and distress), so he contacted an acquaintance of his to come and tutor her, and teach her about the wildlife local to Eorzea. Though she seemed to respond to the lessons, it was difficult, still, to decipher her language of silence, and the man knew that her father would only be frustrated by this behavior, were he present for it.

He had met her several times before. Even before the loss of her mother, little Hikari was quiet and reclusive. Her mother made mention of the fact that she had few friends, save for a few children of a neighboring family. Since bringing her to La Noscea, her guardian had noticed that the child would stare at other children, as if longing to be near them, but when approached, would seize up and run from them.

With his work, there was only so much time in his day that the man could dedicate to his newly appointed ward. But he understood that the child was in desperate need of something, and he understood what it was she was looking for as she stood upon the shores and faced the East. He tried to find what ways he could to ease the transition.

This child was not his, but he still felt the yoke of responsibility for her heavy on his shoulders.

The Starlight festival was a tradition that had reached some pockets of the Empire. Largely, it was dismissed as base, savage nonsense. Eager as Hikari's father had been to play at every Doman custom he could, with all the clumsiness of a tourist, he was one who shunned the Ishgardian tradition, finding every conceivable way to write it off as foolish. So, the child had never come to know Starlight. While other children whispered excitedly of what gifts they desired from the Saint, Hikari's eyes remained ever trained on the horizon.

Seros felt uncertain of how to carry out certain Starlight traditions. He asked his companions in Maelstrom uniform, where they had found their sentinels, what kinds of foods they planned to cook, and what gifts their children had been wishing of. He constructed a Starlight celebration for the child with as much care and discretion as he could. If she were to call Eorzea a home, then surely, she must also learn the culture, and partake in it just as any other child of Eorzea may.

The morning finally came. Hikari awoke from her bed to find their own Starlight sentinel in the home, albeit, a rather small, knobby, crudely bent little sentinel, its branches thin of needles and its boughs bent under the weight of what shining baubles her guardian could find for it. On their sitting room table was a cake, cooked thick and colorful with chunk of diced fruit, and beside it was a package wrapped in colorful paper. Her guardian rose from his chair, leaving his morning coffee to cool, and he bent on one knee to offer the child the gift.

"Happy Starlight, little one. This is for you."

The girl's maroon eyes blinked several times in awed confusion, though she took the gift, nonetheless, and opened up the paper with such care as not to tear it. Beneath the wrappings was a thickly bound book, its pages still crisp and its leather still smelling new. In gilded lettering, the words 'The Raimdelle Codex' were penned on the cover. Taking her thumb to the heavy tome's pages, she spread them apart to see a detailed illustration of a massive, hulking, horned beast beside the text. She turned the pages to see others. A Bloodshore Bell. A Duck. A Dhalmel. With every page, the little girl came to understand what this book was.

Anxiously, the man awaited her reaction, if any was to be had. Her head was bowed over the book, her hair covering her face from his sight. He saw her back rise with a deep breath. And, for the first time since her mother's passing in the late summer, the girl made a sound. She cried out a wail, starting out quietly first, then rising so loudly that the man feared the neighbors would worry. Flustered and bewildered, his hands hovered over the girl uncertainly, as he tried to think of some way to comfort her.

“ Do you--not like it?"

Hikari only continued to wail, red in the face, tears streaming down her cheeks. She shook her head, then, clutching the book to her breast, her other hand grasped at her godfather's coat, and she buried her face into his side. Utterly flabbergasted, he placed his hand on the child' back and drew her in for an awkward embrace.

It was not a spoken response, but regardless, it was progress.

#Hikari Inamoto #story post

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dailyaudiobible · 6 years ago

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07/17/2018 DAB Transcript

1 Chronicles 24:1-26:11, Romans 4:1-13 , Psalms 13:1-6, Proverbs 19:15-16

Today is the 17th day of July. Welcome to the Daily Audio Bible. I'm Brian. It is a pleasure and an honor to be with you today. I'm glad we can come in out of whatever is going on, all of the cares of the world and life’s distractions. We step away from that, kind of move into another atmosphere. All that stuff will wait. We center ourselves in God's word, allowing it to come washing into our lives and re-calibrating. So we're reading from the Christian Standard Bible this week and we'll pick up where we left off yesterday. 1 Chronicles 24:1-26:11 today.

Commentary:

Okay. So in the book of Romans, I think I look forward to this day each year, although I hadn't realized that until just now. And it's because I get to say circumcision so many times in one sitting. Of course, circumcision...come on, this is always a trending topic. I mean, I think about it all the time. Don't you? As funny as that might be, the people that Paul's talking to they do think a lot about it. Because for them, at least for the males obviously, it was a sign of the covenant. Something that made them exclusive. Now, Hebrews weren't the only ones practicing circumcision at this time. But this had been a long-standing sign of the covenant with God. What we're watching Paul do is deconstruct and re-imagine the faith of his fellow Hebrews. And what he begins to lay out today is something that we will see over and over and over throughout Paul's letters. So here's the problem: Paul, a devout Pharisee, had realized and spoken out loud what everyone knew- no one could ever obey the law perfectly. Therefore, no one could ever achieve righteousness before God by their good works, by obeying that law. Because no matter how good they were, they were going to fail at some point. So Paul, being a devout Hebrew Pharisee, reasoned it out. We can't get there from here. And what Paul wanted is to be righteous before God. That was his entire mission of his life as a Pharisee. So he goes back to the beginning of the story. And the story of the Hebrew people begins with a man named Abram who becomes Abraham, who enters into the first covenant with God. It is Abraham's offspring who become the people of God - the Hebrew people. This is their origin story. It is the animating story that propels their culture. So no one was going to argue with Paul about that. Abraham started it all. They all knew that. But they may have not considered and what Paul was inviting them to consider was the fact that Abraham wasn't circumcised. There was no covenant at that point. Once the covenant happened, than Abraham was circumcised. But that didn't make him righteous before God. It was something else that made Abraham righteous. Abraham, and I'm quoting Paul, Abraham believed God and it was credited to him for righteousness. Paul was simply quoting the book of Genesis. That right there is foundational, fundamental to what Paul was teaching. It was Abraham's faith in God and belief in what God had promised that mattered. God considered him righteous because of that. So Paul is saying, hang on. We got a law, we gotta lot of rituals, we gotta lot of culture, we gotta lot of custom. We got all this stuff going on, but we've forgotten how this whole thing started. We keep trying to worship in a way this law that we cannot live up to. And that is not what started our story. Our story began with a man and his faith. Abraham. And he wasn't circumcised when he put his faith in God. He wasn't obeying a law because there wasn't one to obey. So we have to consider what happened at the beginning. We'll watch Paul lay this out over and over and over again. And it's important because it is also a central thing to our faith obviously. Our faith is the bridge that all of our hope in Jesus drives on. And Paul will continue to pound this point home, like I said, over and over, as we'll see.

Prayer:

Father, we thank You for Your word. We thank You for the gift. We thank You for the community that we get to share each and every day no matter where we are on the earth, we come together each and every day to allow Your word to minister and speak, direct and comfort us. So we thank You. Father, in light of our reading today we put our faith in You. We believe Your promises and we ask that You lead us on the path of righteousness today by the power of Your Holy Spirit. Come Jesus, we pray. In Your precious name we ask. Amen.

Announcements:

dailyaudiobible.com is the website, its home base, it's where you find out what’s going on around here.

So, be sure to check in and check it out.

Check out the resources that are available in the Daily Audio Bible shop. Visit the prayer wall. Of course, you can do these things if you're using the Daily Audio Bible app as well.

If you want to partner with the Daily Audio Bible, you can do that at dailyaudiobible.com. There's a link on the homepage. If you're using the app, you can press the give button in the upper right-hand corner. Or if you prefer, the mailing address is P.O Box 1996, Spring Hill, Tennessee, 37174.

And as always, if you have a prayer request or comment, 877-942-4253 is the number to dial.

And that's it for today. I'm Brian I love you and I'll be waiting for here tomorrow.

Community Prayer and Praise:

Hi. If this is Amy from Texas. This is the first time that I’ve called, although I’ve been listening for four years. I just have a prayer request for my husband David. He finished, recently, a year’s treatment for cancer and at our last scan of his chest, his tumor site, a couple of spots showed up in his lungs. The doctor did tell us that she was not worried about them because they were so small but the likelihood of his kind of cancer spreading would go to his lungs. He has another scan in three months just to check for if they’ve grown. So, I would just ask that you would pray that there is no cancer anywhere, that the spot’s would be nothing, that they will not even be visible on the next scan. 95% of people have spots on their lungs. So, she said the likelihood of that happening is high also. So, but of course the fear is always there for me even though I’ve seen God’s faithfulness through these last years. So, please just pray that it’s nothing and that we can put this chapter in our lives behind us. Thank you so much.

Hola DAB family. God bless you Brian, Jill, and all who are working behind the scenes. This is Viv from Canada and it’s been so long that I’m getting called out by my brother Sean 316. It is always been a pleasure to hear you call in Sean. I remember how much I laughed when you called in that little imitation piece of our fellow DABbers. Anyway, thank you for the shout out. That was very sweet. I too have been wondering about our sister Sherry. I hope she’s doing well. I miss her sweet voice singing for us. Ut it does get busy. You know, so, I hope she’s really doing well. And here’s my request today. Whenever you are wondering about a regular caller who has not called in for a while, just say a prayer for them because you never know what’s going on in their lives. Thanks to everyone who prayed for me and my friend Darla and the loss of her brother. We definitely felt your prayers. So, thanks. And Asia, thank you so much for the sweet message. It is truly appreciated. What an awesome community this is. The love and care that we all show for each other is amazing and can only be from God. So, Father God, thank You for the vision that you gave to Brian and Jill so many years ago and the wisdom that You have bestowed upon them, enabling them to continue Your work. We pray Father for Your continued blessings of provision, for health and super strength for Brian. And as he reads every day the Lord, as he reads the word fresh every day, I pray that Yo will continue to anoint him with Your Holy Spirit. We pray that You continue to bless all who give financially to this ministry, that Your store baskets may never be empty. We pray this all in the name of Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen. And family, if you remember when you pray, I’m learning a new language, Spanish. It is a lot of fun but it’s taking a bit of effort to grasp. So, I just might have to call Pastor Gene for some lessons. Anyways, thanks for listening and praying with me.

Hi family. This is Melody Faith from Canada. I want to thank all of you, including Victoria Soldier, Pastor Gene, and Lee from New Jersey for praying for Jared regarding addiction, his court date, and needing a haircut. He did get a haircut and the court appearance resulted in a reasonable sentence. Regarding the addiction, well, let’s just say my husband and I can certainly feel out little boat rocking the storm. I will call in with another request when I figure out just how to word it. As I join with each of you in your everyday, I find myself praying for each of your needs and applying the word of God. Many of you are in crisis and I hear the desperation in your voices. I ran across a quote today that caught my attention and I’d like to share it with you. “Next time you’re walking through something and you’re not sure what to do, do this. Never doubt in the dark what God has shown you in the light. Have faith in God. Don’t believe the lie that God doesn’t see you there. So often we take our cues was going on around us. Instead, grab a hold of the word of God. God is on the throne. He hasn’t changed.” I need to remind thyself of that too. Often, I have to remind myself of that. Hebrews 6 verse 19 says, we have this hope for an anchor for our soul, firm and secure. So, if your boat is rocking, throw down the anchor of faith and trust Him today. I hope these words encourage you. I love family. Thank you DAB. Have a great day.

Good morning Daily Audio Bible family. This is Dan from Arkansas. I just wanted to call in and let Scott know that we’re praying for his family and his son Joel. It’s a horrible time they’ve been going through and it just weighed super heavy on my heart and I just wanted to call in and let him know that we are all with you brother and, you know, we may not understand what you’re going through but all of us have felt loss and felt pain and we’re just praying for Joel and we just pray that the Lord just takes that issue that’s going on with the water on his brain away and just heals him completely. And so, I’d like to pray for you now. Dear Lord, I thank You for this day Lord. I think You for my Daily Audio Bible family Lord. I thank You for Scott and his calling in and letting us know was going on in his life Lord. And I pray for his son Joel Lord. I pray that You put Your hands upon him Lord and that You heal this boy and let him just be well Lord. I thank all the rest of the Daily Audio Bible family for always being so uplifting. And I love you guys and I pray for you guys every day and I hope everyone has a wonderful day.

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multipleservicelisting · 4 years ago

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Black, Deaf and Extremely Online

“I have to make sure my hands are not ashy before I sign,” Nakia Smith, who is deaf, explained to her nearly 400,000 followers.

In one of the dozens of popular videos she posted to TikTok last year, Ms. Smith compared her habit of adding a quick dab of lotion to her hands before she starts signing to the sip of water a hearing person takes before beginning to speak.

Since Ms. Smith created her account last April, the small ritual has caught millions of eyes, drawing attention to a corner of the internet steeped in the history and practice of a language that some scholars say is too frequently overlooked: Black American Sign Language, or BASL.

Variations and dialects of spoken English, including what linguists refer to as African-American English, have been the subject of intensive study for years. But research on Black ASL, which differs considerably from American Sign Language, is decades behind, obscuring a major part of the history of sign language.

About 11 million Americans consider themselves deaf or hard of hearing, according to the Census Bureau’s 2011 American Community Survey, and Black people make up nearly 8 percent of that population. Carolyn McCaskill, founding director of the Center for Black Deaf Studies at Gallaudet University, a private university in Washington for the deaf and hard of hearing, estimates that about 50 percent of deaf Black people use Black ASL.

Now, young Black signers are celebrating the language on social media, exposing millions to the history of a dialect preserved by its users and enriched by their lived experiences.

Nuances of Black ASL

Users of Black ASL are often confronted with the assumption that their language is a lesser version of contemporary ASL, but several scholars say that Black ASL is actually more aligned with early American Sign Language, which was influenced by French sign language.

Ms. Smith, whose sign name is Charmay, has a simple explanation of how the two languages differ: “The difference between BASL and ASL is that BASL got seasoning,” she said.

Compare ASL with Black ASL and there are notable differences: Black ASL users tend to use more two-handed signs, and they often place signs around the forehead area, rather than lower on the body.

“Here you have a Black dialect developed in the most oppressive conditions that somehow, in many respects, wound up to be more standard than the white counterpart,” said Robert Bayley, a professor of linguistics at the University of California, Davis.

As white deaf schools in the 1870s and 1880s moved toward oralism — which places less emphasis on signing and more emphasis on teaching deaf students to speak and lip-read — Black signers better retained the standards of American Sign Language, and some white sign language instructors ended up moving to Black deaf schools.

According to Ceil Lucas, a sociolinguist and professor emerita at Gallaudet University, many white deaf schools were indifferent to Black deaf students’ education.

“The attitude was, ‘We don’t care about Black kids,’” she said. “‘We don’t care whether they get oralism or not — they can do what they want.’ And so these children benefited by having white deaf teachers in the classroom.”

Some Black signers also tend to use a larger signing space and emote to a greater degree when signing when compared with white signers. Over time, Black ASL has also incorporated African-American English terms. For example, the Black ASL sign for “tight” meaning “cool,” which comes from Texas, is not the same as the conceptual sign for “tight,” meaning snug or form-fitting. There are also some signs for everyday words like “bathroom,” “towel” and “chicken” that are completely different in ASL and Black ASL, depending on where a signer lives or grew up.

The same way Black hearing people adjust how they speak “to meet the needs” of their white counterparts, Black ASL users employ a similar mechanism depending on their environment, according to Joseph Hill, an associate professor at Rochester Institute of Technology’s National Technical Institute for the Deaf.

As one of the first Black students to attend the Alabama School for the Deaf, Dr. McCaskill said code switching allowed her to fit in with white students, while also preserving her Black ASL style.

“We kept our natural way of communicating to the point where many of us code-switched unconsciously,” she said.

Ms. Smith said she noticed that others communicated differently from her around middle school, when she attended a school that primarily consisted of hearing students.

“I started to sign like other deaf students that don’t have deaf family,” said Ms. Smith, whose family has had deaf relatives in four of the last five generations. “I became good friends with them and signed like how they signed so they could feel comfortable.”

Remarking on how her relatives sign — her grandfather Jake Smith Jr. and her great-grandparents Jake Smith Sr. and Mattie Smith have all been featured on her TikTok — Ms. Smith notes that they still tend to use signs they learned growing up.

Generational differences often emerge when Ms. Smith’s older relatives try to communicate with her friends or when they need help communicating at doctor’s appointments, she said, exemplifying how Black ASL has evolved over generations.

Much like any Black experience, Black deaf people’s experiences with Black ASL vary from person to person, and seldom neatly fit into what others expect it to be.

A language born of oppression

Similar to much of Black American history, Black ASL grew out of the immoral seeds of racial segregation.

One of the most comprehensive looks into the language comes from the Black ASL Project, a six-year research study started in 2007 that draws on interviews with about 100 subjects across six Southern states, with findings compiled in “The Hidden Treasure of Black ASL.” (Dr. McCaskill, Dr. Hill, Dr. Bayley and Dr. Lucas are authors.)

The project found that segregation in the South played a large role in Black ASL’s development.

Schools for Black deaf children in the United States began to emerge after the Civil War, according to the team’s study, with 17 states and the District of Columbia having Black deaf institutions or departments. The first U.S. school for the deaf, which later came to be known as the American School for the Deaf, opened in 1817 in Hartford, Conn., and did not initially accept Black students.

Separation led to Black deaf schools’ differing immensely from their white counterparts. White schools tended to focus on an oral method of learning and provide an academic-based curriculum, while Black schools emphasized signing and offered vocational training.

“There were no expectations for Black deaf children to be prepared for college or even continue their education,” said Dr. McCaskill, who started to lose her hearing around age 5 and attended the Alabama School for the Negro Deaf and Blind in Talladega, Ala.

In 1952, Louise B. Miller, joined by other Washington parents, sued the District of Columbia’s Board of Education for not permitting Black deaf children at the Kendall School, the city’s only school for the deaf.

The court ruled in Ms. Miller’s favor under the precedent that states could not provide educational institutions within their state for one race and not the other. Black students were permitted to attend the Kendall School in 1952, with classes becoming fully integrated in 1954 after the Supreme Court decision Brown v. Board of Education.

Desegregation wasn’t immediate in the South however, as most schools resisted racial integration until threatened with the loss of federal funding. In Louisiana, the state’s white and Black deaf schools delayed integration until 1978.

In 1968, Dr. McCaskill became a part of the first integrated class at the Alabama School for the Deaf. As a teenager in a newly integrated class, she had a daunting realization: She couldn’t understand her white teachers.

“Even though they were signing, I didn’t understand,” she said. “And I didn’t understand why I didn’t understand.”

A new generation takes ownership

With the pandemic forcing many to flock to virtual social spaces, Isidore Niyongabo, president of National Black Deaf Advocates, said he had seen online interaction grow within his organization and across the Black deaf community as a whole.

“We are starting to see an uptick with the recognition of the Black deaf culture within America,” Mr. Niyongabo said, adding that he expected it would “continue spreading throughout the world.”

Vlogs and online discussion panels — for millions, staples of pandemic life — have helped foster a more tight-knit community, he said.

In the last year, the documentary “Signing Black in America” and the Netflix series “Deaf U” introduced the stories of deaf people to wider audiences.

Similarly, Ms. Smith’s TikTok videos have captured attention across the internet, including and especially among Black audiences.

Ms. Smith said she could see herself working with other Black deaf creators online to lift up the stories of Black deaf people, contributing to the recent explosion of Black ASL content that, among other things, has experts optimistic about the future of Black ASL and its preservation.

“History is important,” she says in one video. “Am I trying to divide the language between ASL and BASL? No. I just carried the history.”

Particularly on social media, younger Black deaf generations have grown more outspoken about Black ASL, proudly claiming it as a part of their culture and their identity, Dr. McCaskill said.

“Historically, so much has been taken away from us, and they’re finally feeling that ‘this is ours,’” she said. “‘This is mine. I own something.’”

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cafezimmermann · 5 years ago

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(in which I become angry...)

On Thursday evening, I attended a vernissage at the Grassi Museum of Ethnology in Leipzig for The German Dream, an "ethnographic study of the dreams, rituals, and visions of a society in which many of its members are looking for an alternative for Germany." The exhibition, as seen through the eyes of its two curators – a cultural anthropologist and an art historian – attempted to identify “typically German” things that seemed doomed to disappear in the future.

"At the beginning of the 20th century, ethnologists were driven into the world by the fear of the loss of "foreign" societies, which is why they set off to collect objects, languages, and stories from all over the world before the respective communities disappeared under the pressure of colonialism. Before this presumably happens to the Germans as well, we have collected important every day and cult objects of this community and offer here a small insight into the current state of what is often speculative research."

On the whole, I found the exhibition interesting (having translated parts of it into English, I was curious what it looked like). There were elements of it that I particularly liked – for example, a 1972 video of Germany in the year 2000 that portrayed the typical working day of a specific "Herr B, 45 years old, politically independent, and single. For the past five years, he has had a steady girlfriend, and for the past two years an artificial heart that works satisfactorily for him." In the adjacent room, there was a mockup of the "Weisses Ross" (White Horse), a Leipzig bar that, after 143 years, was forced to close its doors to make way for a modern microbrewery (at the Stammtisch, the regulars of the bar had been invited to drink beer and play a final round of cards for the visitors). And in yet in another room, there was an installation titled "Digging for Dreams and Nightmares" – a presentation of how a German archeological team has been deliberately planting time capsules at random locations for future generations to discover.

These were the exhibition's highlights. For the most part, however, The German Dream seemed to focus on the dreariness of conservative middle-brow mentality and consumerism – a life of plastic water bottles, barbecue grills, supermarket checkout counter dividers at Aldi, Märklin model train sets, plastic garden dwarfs, Playmobil figures, and Jack Wolfskin rain parkas (strange, the exhibition failed to display those little waste receptacles found at breakfast tables in German hotels). These odds and ends that we take for granted in everyday life, accompanied by pictures of faceless communities (where, when you step off of the bus, you stare heavenwards and wonder to yourself "Just what the hell am I doing here?") attempted to portray modern German society, on the whole, as ‘castrated’:

“While megalopolises such as Shanghai and Dubai are realizing the belief in progress in concrete and steel, the Germans are forced to put up with the question: What happened to the great projects? While around 1900 the overall fascination for visions of the future was still great, it seems, only 19 years after Expo 2000 in Hanover, that the German mentality of the 21st century remains stuck in provincialism, skepticism, and retro kitsch.”

That said, the ‘epicenter’ of The German Dream was a room that had been cordoned off by heavy velvet curtains – the "heart of darkness," a space apart from the drab grey of consumerism where "good citizens" dare not go. It was here where the fascinating and yet controversial aspects of German culture could be found. It was here where Lucas Cranach's Eve was offset by, among other things, Schinkel's stage design for the “Queen of the Night” aria in Mozart’s Magic Flute, stills from Reni Riefenstahl's film Olympia, a portrait of Karl Marx's daughter Laura, and a drawing of a wolf in the woods made by the art historian's five-year-old daughter. It was here where Caspar David Friedrich's Cloister Cemetery in the Snow was juxtaposed with portrayals of Albert Speer's Germania (as an "idealized" future) and black and white photographs of drab concrete prefabricated East German housing blocks (as the reality of Socialist utopia). And it was here where, unfortunately, in the middle of it all, Deutschland, Rammstein's latest video, was being played in an endless loop on a video monitor.

In a time where political views seem to be a polarization of extreme political correctness and blatant right-wing populism, Deutschland is a disturbing attempt by Rammstein to address key points of German history: the Crusades, the Reformation, colonialism, National Socialism, and the Cold War – in effect, all of the things that The German Dream didn’t address. And, although I can understand why some regard Rammstein's "message" in the video as a criticism of German history and thus a dissociation of right-wing ideas ("Deutschland, meine Liebe kann ich dir nicht geben" – "Germany, I cannot give you my love"), Rammstein doesn't hesitate to portray the very violence it seems to criticize.

This, in turn, effectively makes Deutschland nothing more than a rape of German history. In an online article about the video, Mitteldeutscher Rundfunk (Central German Broadcasting, MDR) didn't hesitate to conceal the outrage of many who see Deutschland as an affront to humanity and German culture. According to Christoph Heubner, Executive Vice President of the International Auschwitz Committee, the band’s members "rage with their violent fantasies through German history as if inspired, driven by the greed for the most bloodthirsty images and scenes possible, including those of the German concentration camps […] The value of this video as an artistic examination of German history and Germany as a fatherland is far below zero." MDR adds Josef Schuster's opinion to Heubner's thoughts: "Anyone who misuses the Holocaust for marketing purposes acts reprehensibly and immorally."

(Even the title of the video stoops to the lowest common denominator by using the 1934 “Deutschland” typeface, which typesetters, who were brought up with more elegant, humanistic examples of Fraktur from 16th and 17th centuries, ironically referred to as Schaftstiefelgrotesk ("jackboot grotesques"). Oddly enough, Hitler later banned the blackletter typeface in 1941, decreeing that "the so-called Gothic letters were based on Jewish Schwabacher letterforms.")

The message of the video aside, I felt that the overbearing maelstrom of Rammstein's music – its sheer aggressive, overbearing force – pulled the visitor away from being able to focus on the rest of the images in the dimly lit room. It angered me, in part because the visual associations offered were absolutely brilliant – there was so much to discover in the room, and yet, after unsuccessfully trying to draw my attention away from the video, I simply gave up and left, frustrated by the experience.

On my way back home, I started wondering about what this part of the exhibition might have been like if there had been different music. It then hit upon me that in his essay Concert Design. Form Follows Function, Folkert Uhde, the director of Radialsystem V in Berlin, writes about the importance of context in a concert program, citing an experiment he often holds in workshops about concert design:

"I often conduct a small experiment by showing ten very different photographs and playing the same piece of music for each photograph. The reactions are always surprising: depending on the image, which is seen as 'suitable', the music achieves in part an entirely different effect. Sometimes it is even doubted that it was the same recording of the same piece."

With that in mind, I began to ask myself, “What would it have been like the other way around?” How might have the public reacted had this room been presented with a different pieces of music in the background? How might such parallel worlds, which, musically, equally reflect the complex diversity and beauty of Germany's cultural past, affect and alter the visitor’s perception of the images on the wall? Which music would have been best suited? Would the relationship and meaning of the images change according to the musical context - perhaps intensifying the one over the other?

As Folkert Uhde explains: “If the impression is strong enough, it will make an impact. Contextualization can introduce a particular atmosphere, make associations and, above all, create individual personal points of reference for the listener.”

What if, for example, if classical music ranging from Bach's chorale "Ach wie nichtig, ach wie flüchtig" or Salomone Rossi's Al naharot Bavel to Richard Wagner's “Im Treibhaus” (from his Wesendonk Lieder) or Anton Webern's Passacaglia for Orchestra, op. 1, had been playing? Or, if popular music were desired, something like Wolf Bierman's Ermutigung, Jupp Schmitz's Wer soll das bezahlen?, or a video of MarieMarie's A Beautiful Life? What associations might have been made through these pieces of music?

Or, if they really wanted to be confrontational, why not a video of the Ernst Thälmann Lied, the unofficial hymn of the German Democratic Republic?

youtube

“The most precious thing man possesses is life. It is given only once. And he shall use it so that he may say when he dies, ‘My whole life, my whole power, I have dedicated the most glorious thing in the world, in the struggle for the liberation of mankind.’”

(my translation of the text at the end of the video)

Unfortunately, the opportunity to explore such relationships within the context of The German Dream was simply missed. Actually, that’s putting it lightly – the use of the Rammstein video was, in in my opinion, a display of ignorance.

Admittedly, it showed the point where we have arrived in society (which, from what I understand, was the justification for using the video), but failing to take the rest of Germany’s rich musical culture into consideration is criminal. Indeed we have come a long way from Martin Luther’s proclamation “Next to the Word of God, the noble art of music is the greatest treasure in the world.” But do we really need to reach for the bottom of the barrel and scrape out ‘music’ that is so vile and does nothing more than glorify the history of violence for commercial purposes? And just because we are too blind to look beyond the horizon?

I hope not, and yet, when I see Deutschland being used in a serious discourse about German society, I have my doubts.

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williamkenedy · 8 years ago

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The Legend of the A-Khela, Part I

The Legend of the A-Khela

A Tale of William Kennedy, Bard of House Lorain

In the wild North, they tell many strange tales. Witches who fly around in a mortar or have houses made of candied bread. Blue skinned giants who do battle with gods wielding hammers forged in the stars. Horned demons that kidnap naughty children and beat them with reeds before devouring them. It's a place and a people unlike anything I've ever seen in my travels. Some people say that they are uncivilized or barbaric, but having lived among them for a time, I find they hold a culture that would rival that of even the noblest houses in the kingdom. A culture of harmony with nature, of honor between brothers, of giving everything for one's people. Beneath their rough exterior lies a truly noble sentiment. After spending a month listening as a shaman recanted legends by the communal fire in the shadows of a gathering stone, it is my privilege to recount for you an ancient legend which traces back to the earliest days of the North. A tale of dark magics, of proud warriors, of black-hearted betrayal, and of great sacrifice. So begins the legend of the A-Khela….

Deep in the rolling hills and rocky crags of the northern highlands lay the city of Ravndal, the seat of Thelm Broadshield. The village lay within one of the many fjords along the Northeastern coast, where the Dakthorn Forest met the sea. The Broadshield clan had brought their village to a place of prominence through raids and alliances with the heads of other villages. They also controlled valuable resources of iron within the fjord’s cliffs, making Ravndal a center for trade. Eventually, Thelm was granted the title of Arl, winning the fealty of many of the other chieftains of the North. However, some chieftains refused to swear their loyalty. They withdrew into the rugged tundra of Valkensvi, but raiders bearing the colors of these rogue clans would often appear in the lands of the Arl, attacking traders or hunters and occasionally ransacking and burning small villages on the outskirts of the Arl’s domain. Occasionally they were joined by criminals or mercenaries from the south, but the renegades never had enough power to directly challenge the might of the Arl’s forces.

So life continued, and in Ravndal many children came of age. Among the greater houses were two young women, Annariel and Astred. Both were of slim build and fair skinned beauty. Their light hair and brilliant blue eyes caught the light of the sun and sparkled like spun gold framing twin sapphires. However, they were far from fragile beauties. They were the daughters of great warriors, and the two had trained together alongside other warriors since they could first hold a sword. While both mastered combat with the sword and shield, Annariel often traded her sword for a spear, striking at distance before closing for a fatal thrust, while Astred favored the bow, raining a hail of precisely placed arrows down upon any who stood before her. The two women often fought side by side, and despite their youth they were heralded by the Arl for their valor, who named them shield sisters. The two were inseparable, and even the bravest of warriors fled before the purple banners of the shield sisters. They were often dispatched by the Arl alongside a small group of talented warriors to search for raiders from the renegade clans and expel them from the Arl’s lands.

In response to a particularly brazen spree of raids on the border of Valkensvi, Thelm dispatched the shield sisters to investigate. During their first encounter with the enemy Astred was wounded when an enemy warrior had rushed her during an ambush. The attack had been much fiercer than any the two had ever encountered. Their foes would suffer wounds that should have instantly been fatal, but they would continue to fight for quite some time. Even the loss of a limb did nothing to dampen their rage. Berserkers had long made up a core of the renegade raiding parties, using potions and other natural materials to enhance their strength and endurance. However, these men were driven by something far darker. As the men tended to Astred’s wounds, Annariel examined the corpses of the men they had slain. Their bodies bore scars that formed jagged, sprawling runes. Annariel did not recognize the inscriptions, but looking on their ragged and scabby filled her with an intense sense of unease. Night was falling quickly, so the scouts made camp for the night. Annariel left her compatriots behind to scout the surrounding area in case there were any reinforcements nearby. With her spear and shield at the ready, she crept through the dense briars that covered the space between the great forests and the tundra. As Annariel approached a clearing surrounded by ash trees, that feeling of unease returned. The trees were black and twisted, their branches contorted into unnatural shapes. As she moved closer, she began to hear a woman chanting in the ancient language only spoken by the shamans. The runic speech was similar to that spoken by the shamans of Ravndal, and their incantations had often brought healing or settled the spirits of those who heard them. However, the words this woman spoke had a sickly, haunting tone, and they brought no comfort to Annariel.

As she reached the top of a ridge, she could finally see the chanting woman standing in the middle of a stone pool, her face cast in shadows by the twin moons overhead. The shaman was draped in a cloak of ravens feathers, and on her headdress she bore the crest of the Blaghvold Clan. This clan was the first to oppose the Arl, and many thought the clan’s chieftain sought to unite the renegades and overthrow the Broadshield clan. The shaman was surrounded by warriors, their chests stripped bare and covered in deep cuts. Their eyes were rolled back into their heads, so the circle seemed to stare at the feather-clad priestess with pure white eyes. The blood flowing from the cuts on their chests poured into the pool. As the shaman’s chanting grew louder, the blood rose in fine tendrils around her, twisting and waving in the air, encircling the gathered berserkers in their grasp. Suddenly, with a loud shout from the shaman, the tendrils seized the warriors. Each man gave out a bloodcurdling shriek, their backs arching to inhuman degrees as their bodies contorted under the manipulation of the blood magic. Annariel was frozen in horror as the warriors were lowered to the ground. Their wounds were mystically healed, leaving behind the same runic scars she had seen on the other slain warriors. As the warriors rose, their bones cracked as their joints reset themselves. Annariel have out an involuntary cry, scared and revolted by the sounds and sights of this ritual. The shaman and her warriors all turned and saw Annariel crouched amid the briar.

“Get her, you fools!”, the shaman cried. The warriors rushed towards Annariel, picking up whatever weapons they could pick up on their way. Some had their swords and axes nearby, while others brandished tree branches or rocks. Annariel quickly came to her senses and ran towards where her troops were encamped. However, the camp was miles away, and the blood magic had seemingly instilled the renegade warriors with immense stamina. They chased the shieldmaiden relentlessly, throwing whatever they could pick up in attempts to trip her. Annariel blocked several projectiles with her shield, continuing to race towards her camp. Suddenly, she found herself facing a high cliff. She had descended it without issue on her scouting mission, and would not have had any trouble ascending under other circumstances. However, surrounded by 9 berserkers infused with dark magic, she could not climb to safety. Instead, she leveled her spear towards her attackers and readied herself to die fighting. The largest berserker loosed a great war cry and charged, raising the tree branch he wielded to crush her skull. Annariel raised her shield and thrust her spear towards her enemy. She heard a scream of anguish, but her spear was met with only thin air. She looked out from behind her shield to see what had struck down her foe. She half hoped it was an arrow from her shield sister’s bow. What she saw before her, however, was not the feathered fletching of an arrow.

It was a wolf, with its teeth buried deep in the throat of the berserker. This was no ordinary wolf. It was slightly larger than normal, and its jet black fur was marked by thin white streaks, as well as white paws and a white face and snout. A pattern of white and black fur on its forehead appeared as though it was a rune. The wolf tore the warrior’s throat out, coating its fur in blood. The wolf let out an earsplitting howl, then bared his fangs towards the remaining berserkers, staring them down with its golden eyes. The berserkers shook visibly, unnerved by the new foe they faced. Annariel, however, found new courage in the wolf’s cry, and she hurled her spear towards another of the berserkers. The spear buried itself deep in the warrior’s chest, his heart impaled on the blade as it exited his back. The wolf barked in approval, then lunged at another enemy. The shield maiden gave a mighty war cry as she drew her sword. While the wolf wrestled with its latest victim, Annariel blocked a blow from a berserker axe. She then severed the arm of the offending warrior. She instinctively ducked as the wolf jumped over her to maul her attacker, having already disemboweled his previous opponent. The shield maiden and wolf became a whirlwind of blades and fangs, systematically decimating the remaining berserkers. Only one managed to escape the bloodbath, retreating back towards the stone pool. Annariel was too tired to pursue the fleeing warrior, instead collapsing against the rock face. The wolf walked up to where she was lying, and sat back on its haunches. Its head tilted to the side as it looked at her. Annariel swore that the wolf was somehow assessing her injuries, which were minor, as if it was concerned. Suddenly, she heard a twig snap, and the wolf jumped to his feet. It quickly sniffed the air, then, with one last look at the shieldmaiden, darted off into the forest. The next thing Annariel saw was her shield sister limping towards her. The two embraced each other, both happy to see the other alive and well. They made their way back towards Ravndal to report what they had encountered.

The scouting party secured horses in a nearby village and ride swiftly for two days and nights before reaching Ravndal. They entered the village gates just as the sun was beginning to rise over the eastern hills. Annariel and Astred were both summoned to the Arl’s quarters to report on their mission. The throne room was deserted save for the Arl seated on his throne of wood and tron and Gellena, the oldest of the clan’s shamans. She had served both Thelm’s father and grandfather, and the runes that spiraled along her gnarled oaken staff told the entire history of the North. Hidden behind her wrinkled face and piercing grey eyes were the greatest secrets and most ancient magics known in the North, her inheritance as the latest in a proud succession of elder shamans. As Annariel described the ritual she had observed and the enemies that she and Astred had faced, both the Arl and shaman’s eyes grew wide. The Arl’s mind was filled with thoughts of rebellion and civil war among the clans, and he began to earnestly question the two about how many men they had seen, and how such berserkers could best be overcome. She answered each question to the best of her ability. However, for some reason, she left out the wolf that had come to her aid. In contrast to her Arl, Gellena stood silent, her fingers tracing along her staff. The two shield maidens and the Arl paid her no attention, loudly discussing various strategies for taking down armies of these new foes.

Suddenly, the old shaman slammed her staff on the floor of the throne room. The other three immediately fell silent and stared at the old woman as she slowly walked towards the fire in the center of the throne room. She began to chant in the ancient language, her normally quiet voice booming throughout the hall. The flames leapt from the pit, twisting to form the outlines of warriors with their weapons drawn.

“The prophecy has begun!”, she said, tapping her staff with her long fingers as she recounted the ancient words inscribed there. The flames shifted to illustrate her words, crackling and flashing as they changed their shape. Gellena spoke of a time when a great leader would rise unite the North. “It was said that his reign would bring about an era of peace and prosperity, and many would herald his greatness. However, others would grow jealous of the leader’s power and fame, and they would conspire with the dark forces of the world to end his reign. Their warriors would shed their fear of pain and death in pools of blood, and rise to fight endless battles against the lands of the North, and their merciless slaughter would spare no one”. The flames showed berserkers slaughtering men, women, and children without mercy, their wickedly shaped weapons extinguishing the light of life in these flame beings.“Even as great warriors would give their lives to defeat these blood ragers, darker forces would be brought forth by those desperate to gain power”. The flames contorted into monstrous forms the likes of which none present had ever seen. Horned demons with great clawed hands and grotesque boars with six legs and tusks the size of spears rose amid the flames, tearing through battle lines of warriors with ease. The Arl and the shield sisters looked on in horror at what they saw. They could not see any way for anyone to prevail against such power and evil.

Gellena continued, “But there is hope. A champion will arise, and he will rally a force that will defeat even the strongest of foes. None shall stand before him and live, and he will drive back the darkness”. Flames showed an agile warrior fighting against the fiery demons. Slowly he overcame one after another of the foul creatures. The Arl pressed the shaman to reveal the name of their savior. “It is not written”, she replied, “he will only be known by his mark, and by omens yet to be foretold. But with him will come another”. The flames split to form two identical entities. “As other chieftains grew jealous of the great leader, so too will one grow jealous of the champion. This man will outwardly be steadfast and loyal, but a dark secret lies deep within, a hidden lust for power and a disregard for the costs of success. He will betray the champion at every turn in a ploy to take his place. Eventually, his ambition will lead him to forge a pact in blood and dark magic with those who would destroy the great leader and seize his power. Should he succeed, the champion will likely fail to gather his force, and the North will fall to the betrayer and those with whom he has made his dark pact. He will rule as a tyrant, and all will suffer under him. Fear will dominate the world and an era of darkness will blanket the North. The arl begged to the shaman to tell him how they would recognize the betrayer. She said, “He will be a great warrior, handsome and strong. Many will hold him in high regard, not thinking for an instant that he is capable of any wrongdoing. His heart is well hidden, but you will know him by his mark as well. It will be unnatural in appearance, and it will serve to herald pain and suffering. One will rise and one will fall. Either the champion will disperse the darkness, or the betrayer will help it consume us all”. The shaman slammed her staff on the ground again, and the dancing flames were immediately extinguished. The throne room was left in darkness, as the sun’s rays had not yet penetrated the narrow windows. The two shield maidens and the Arl looked at each other, each silently considering everything they had just heard. Thelm rose from his throne and called in several of his advisors. He thanked Annariel and Astred, and the shield sisters left the hall as a solemn discourse began among the gathered advisors.

In the months that followed, more and more reports of the blood ragers’ activities reached the walls of Ravndal. They attacked boldly and without regard for their losses, Often leaving no survivors. In response, Thelm Broadshield dispatched an ever increasing number of patrols to try and defend his lands. Annariel and Astred were often on the front lines. They formed an exceptional effective pair, with Astred’s arrows bringing down foes while Annariel kept them at bay with her spear. However, one day the blood ragers became the least of their worries. The two were in a village that had already repulsed two bloodrager attacks when a lone scout ran gasping into the village. He was bleeding from several wounds, and he barely made it through the village gate before he collapsed. The women rushed over to him. His wounds were obviously fatal, but they didn’t seem to have been caused by any weapon the sisters had ever seen. With his dying breath, the man whispered one word.

“Wolves”.

The two women barely had time to process what they had heard before a sentry’s horn sounded from the eastern tower. Astred raced to the top of the tower while Annariel gathered the town militia to supplement her scouts. As Astred looked out towards the treeline, she could see large, dark shapes moving swiftly among the trees. At first she thought they were towering blood ragers, but as she watched them she realized that they were moving far too fast to be men. She knocked an arrow and pointed it towards the woods, waiting for whatever was lurking to emerge.

She didn’t have to wait long. As the arrow settled on the bow, a pack of fifteen giant wolves burst from the woods. Each of these beasts stood as tall as a warhorse, with menacing yellow fangs and and fiery red eyes. Their matted black fur was caked with blood and gore, evidence of their past slaughter. Astred instinctively loosed her arrow. It struck one of the wolves in the front rank, but the wolf showed no acknowledgement of the injury. The wolves then began to howl. This was a hunting cry, and it instilled a sense of fear that none had ever felt before. Before Astred could even reach for a second arrow, the wolves charged the wooden battlements of the village. Astred and the few sentries that had held their nerve fired a quick succession of arrows, but they did nothing to halt the advance of the beasts. The wolves did not slow as they reached the base of the wall. They crouched low, then used their powerful legs to leap over the battlements with ease. Once Annariel’s assembled forces saw the black beasts land, many threw down their weapons and fled. Those who stood firm braced themselves for an attack. The wolves stared down the shield maiden and her militia, their teeth barred in what seemed like a wicked smile of one who reveals in death and destruction. A few of the wolves then broke off towards other parts of the village, intent on hunting down the residents incapable of defending themselves. The largest of them, the pack’s alpha, and the others remained to face the town’s defenders. The alpha let out a threatening howl. Annariel responded with a equally fearsome war cry, and she charged the wolves with spear and shield raised. The warriors behind her joined the charge, inspired by the fearlessness of the shield maiden. The wolves lunged forward with fangs bared and claws extended.

The two forces clashed. Swords and axes hacked through thick fur and leathery hide while teeth punctured armor and flesh. Shields shattered under blows from the wolves’ massive paws. Arrows from the sentries on the walls continued to pour into the fray. Screams of the villagers and frightened animals added to the cacophony of battle. In the middle of the melee stood Annariel. She stood alone before the pack alpha, the two locked in single combat. She pointed her spear at the massive black beast using her shield to deflect swipes of its paws while jabbing at the alpha’s face and forelegs. The alpha used his superior agility to circle the shield maiden, looking for an opening to sink his fangs into her soft flesh while trying to knock her over with his great strength. It took every ounce of skill Annariel had to stay alive. After rolling under an attack from the alpha’s paw, she heard the wolf give out a cry of pain. Its left eye had been pierced by an arrow. Annariel looked to the battlements for an instant to confirm the source of the arrow. Sure enough, Astred was there, already preparing to loose another arrow. The second found a home next to its brother in the alpha’s bloody eye, eliciting another howl. Annariel knew this was her chance. She dove forward between the stomping paws of the alpha. Rolling onto her back underneath the wolf’s body. As the alpha turned its head down to glare at the her, Annariel thrust her spear straight up into the great wolf’s chest. The alpha gave a horrible death scream, and its body convulsed in its final death throws. Annariel clung tight to her spear, but she was thrown from under the wolf by its final, violent movements. She crashed against the wall of a nearby building. Her vision blurred as she struggled to maintain consciousness. Astred rushed to her shield sister’s side, her bow ready to bring death to any who would threaten Annariel. However, the death cry of the alpha seemed to have robbed the other wolves of their will to fight. They fled quickly, leaping over the nearest section of the village wall and retreating into the forest.

Astred helped Annariel to her feet, supporting her shield sister with her shoulder. The two surveyed the damage to the village. Almost half the men who had stood against the wolves were dead or wounded. Women rushed around the village attempting to tend to the wounded, while others tried to assess the damage to the village. Nine of the militiamen had managed to bring down a second wolf. Its great black corpse was pockmarked with sword and axe wounds, and the warriors were dragging it to lie beside the slain alpha. Other warriors worked to clear the bodies of the dead which littered the village. Annariel shook her head, knowing that the funeral pyres would burn for many days after this attack. She fought to join the efforts to return the village to a state of normalcy, but her injuries and Astred’s firm admonitions prevented her. She was laid in a bed alongside others who had been wounded. Before she faded into unconsciousness, the man beside her turned to her and smiled. He spoke only two words.

“Hail, Wolfslayer.”

To be continued...

#bardoflorain

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genderassignment · 8 years ago

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Blood and Honey: An Interview with Dr. Danica Anderson on Healing for Women War Trauma Survivors

Danica Anderson reading coffee grounds (tasseography) in Ahmica-Vitez, Bosnia

On a quest to connect my grandmother and Zejna, the Bosnian refugee we sponsored together in the 90s—I am sure not by accident—I discovered the work of Dr. Danica Anderson, author of Blood and Honey: The Secret Herstory of Women, South Slavic Women's Experiences in a World of Modern-day Territorial Warfare. In this book, she explores war trauma experienced by women during the Balkan War. Through recipes, and cultural customs, Blood and Honey is a book of spells for these women to heal themselves through bioculinary* arts and biosemiotic** communication. In this beautiful interview, she brings me closer to Zejna and my grandmother, and reveals woman-centric secrets to understanding the rhythms of our subconscious. From coffee readings, to Marija Gimbutas you will love the magic, mystery and healing of this interview!

* Inscribed social memory working collectively with agriculture, herbs, food crops, animal husbandry to bee keeping that preserve South Slavic ancient Neolithic Practices.

** (from the Greek bios meaning "life" and semeion meaning "sign") is a growing field of semiotics and biology that studies the production and interpretation of signs and codes in the biological realm.

First, I would like to ask how your family's trauma from former Yugoslavia was manifest in your life in Chicago. You mentioned that your mother didn't want to speak of it. Was silence part of the intergenerational trauma?

The killing silences are transgenerational in that the silences are passed to future generations. My mother was indoctrinated into killing silences by her mother and grandmother both who lived through world wars in former Yugoslavia. It was not until her late 80’s that my mother spoke of her WWII concentration camp experience to her granddaughter. I don’t think she had the words previously due to shame and guilt that was not hers.

The way trauma ebbed and flowed in my childhood was seen with domestic violence and child abuse. I have early memories, which children who survive child abuse often have. Although the child or infant is preverbal, these memories are stored in the body and often unable to be given a vocabulary until the child’s development of language. This is how children are not aware their lives are violent and instead think it is normal. With the mother submissive and beaten into the killing silences where she has no one to tell, the child cannot gain a vocabulary for the trauma. Instead the killing silences are epigenetic (we are shaped by environment that influences our genome,) thus transgenerational trauma.

You also talk about the women in your Serb community and their bioculinary traditions and ethno-dance traditions, which were both healing, and the foundation of your book's philosophy. Can you describe how these traditions manifest away from one's country of origin? Did your family grow their own food, for instance?

To describe how oral memory traditions capacity for the transmission of human memory is best done when we realize it has been done with a cast of thousands of generations and continues to this day no matter where the geographic location. We are talking about millions upon millions of actors taking up their role in performing the enactment of memory-lived life experiences of our ancestors without external aid meaning no books, scripts to read from, youtube or modern day manuals. If anything, the oral memory traditions are exactly the data needed for study in long term memory and transmission of memory over the Ages with such a vast pool of actors.

What I have observed in the diaspora of not just the South Slavs, but all diverse groups of people is how they reach for their human memory storage triggered by geographic relocation. In one way this is how travelers experience their journeys, a triggering of human memory in their lineage of ancestors’ life experiences. The culture and corresponding oral memory traditions (a ritual science) contain the way of life and the adaptations to the environment. Fleeing the violence and aftermath of war, my parents immigrated through Ellis Island to Chicago. They brought with them their way of life. We had a small back yard for the garden of vegetable and plants. My father would trek to the Southside of Chicago to the train station each fall to buy crates of grapes for wine making. A wooden barrel with an iron press in our basement was arranged so that all my siblings and I would pick off the grapes and toss into the sink to wash and then into the barrel. This took days. Once done, since I was the littlest I was placed into the press to squash the grapes. I remember having stained purple feet and legs. My mother made everything from scratch. Her strudel called ‘pita’ was the finest of translucent phyllo dough she stretched over the kitchen table. The kitchen table was where I would crawl under and watch my older siblings dance the kolo (s)- Serbo-Croatian for folk round dance. The food and gardens are bioculinary practices found in oral memory traditions, a ritual science.

I never considered tasseography (tea or coffee readings) as such a powerful way to tap into the protolinguistic self and heal trauma. You describe "storied instructions" through "small acts", meaning, and the construction of new memories over traumas through mindful experience of the everyday. This is an essential aspect of your book, Blood and Honey Icons: Biosemiotics and Bioculinary and it also is incorporated into your trauma recovery work with Bosnian women war survivors. What kinds of transformations do you witness among women who have been subjected to gynocide and sexual trauma?

The small acts are often repeated and done daily or seasonally through thousands of generations into the present generation. The present generation layers over the oral memory traditions with their environment and life experiences. This is an extraordinary transformational process when you realize that what we live, feel and experience both biologically and even psychobiologically is heritable: transgenerational. Basically, how we live and our life experiences has far reaching social, cultural way of life implications.

The way of life for women is targeted by wars and violence for this very reason since we live in a phallocracy where the male dominates. Yet, women are the creators of culture since we are all born of a woman. Her domestic arts and child rearing are critical transgenerational intangible heritage that evolves our relations with our environment embodied with her life experiences. The Bosnian women war crimes and survivors cleaned up after each war that took place over a century. In doing so, her domestic labor and child rearing was one of survival not evolving thus thriving. Transformations were had by the women survivors who no longer could stand the survival mechanisms found in trauma. The critical juncture was ‘to ask do I need to survive or thrive’. What happened in the aftermath of the Balkan War was a return to what their grandmothers did to survive such as the beehived wood ovens, garden, weaving to dancing the round folk dances called kolo (s).

What I am talking about is how the transformations came through when women regained their role as creators of culture and corresponding oral memory traditions- a ritual science containing prehistoric chants, songs, dance to bioculinary and all way of life before the modern conveniences. One Bosnian war survivor stated when she had nothing, she discovered she had everything with her house that had a field of crops and chickens. She said the farmer and those chickens saved humanity thus transforming humanity.

When survivors did not have an oral memory tradition to transform mostly sexual trauma and genocide, I was told to talk with those struggling. In my paper on Slavic Maternal Fright I wrote about a thin Bosnian-Herzegovinian pregnant woman in her late twenties had big dark circles under her eyes; her hands shook even at rest. When she began sharing her maternal fright, she released expressions that were formerly deliberately hidden and avoided. Her fear was that her husband’s loss of 18 family members at the village of Ahmica-Vitez, Bosnia on April 16, 1993 would flood into her fetus. You see story and metaphor heals only if we author our life experiences. Since trauma is primarily about extraordinary experiences in the personal lives of individuals with women and children the majority facing such impossible circumstances, what occurs is an explosive quality because change is immediate. Thus, her stories are excluded. Women, 51% of world population suffer greater trauma and she is removed from restructuring a self-identity. In the end women cannot reestablish their place in the broader scheme of human affairs and history. Without women’s authored stories and metaphor, we do not have culture. We cannot access healing methods. Instead what is claimed as culture is in reality violence normalized and nationalized with a host of memorials and monuments.

For sixteen years, I have been working extensively with the Bosnian-Herzegovinian women war crimes and war survivors in the aftermath of the Balkan War (1991-1993). I have determined that maternal fright is the entrainment of transgenerational fear and trauma through the female neurobiological processes (Anderson, 2014, Christie, Pim, 2012). This pregnant woman took a green magic marker I brought with an art pad to her apartment. She took the marker and drew a spiral on her pregnant abdomen. When she was done she stated this new oral memory traditions would prevent the transgenerational transmission of trauma. She said she was transformed. She became author of her own story which was excluded and not conforming to the norms of violence.

There are many more stories I write about in my book, Blood and Honey the Secret Herstory of Women: South Slavic Women's Experiences in a World of Modern-day Territorial Warfare. In the chapter of Salutogenesis, the promotion of health, I share the story of a Croat young woman who was sold into sex trafficking in the aftermath of war. Her transformation came more than a decade after I met her in Holland. I asked her to write her story for my book. She took eons to respond and when she did what she wrote was compelling. She told me that she could not retell the story since she is no longer that pain or that victim. In fact, she said her story was not her responsibility anymore and that it was mine now.

As I've shared with you, I recently reunited with a Bosnian Muslim woman my grandmother and I sponsored in the 90s. Her life is very simple, she was not traditionally educated, and she is now 80. She was also subjected to incredible war trauma, which I did not feel entitled to ask her about, even though she wrote me about it in her letters. How do you interact in your Kolo: Women's Cross Cultural Collaboration work with women from various backgrounds and ages? Are there common experiences and acts you found to bond women across these experiences?

Isn’t this the ‘killing silences’ when you and most women feel they are not entitled to ask for grandmothers, mothers and daughters’ life experiences. Yet, you moved forward. The transformation is there in your grandmother’s letters thus providing intimacy and bonding. Note how you were able to set up a space and place for your grandmother’s war stories and trauma. The common experiences and small acts that you performed for your grandmother are the same I invite in when I interact with women. To be sure there is diversity involved since their traumas and life experiences like fingerprints are not identical.

With the South Slavic kolo, the round folk dance or to be in a circle is a multi-dimensional space creating place for women to bond and heal. What I noted was when there is healing, there is bonding and a moment of female solidarity. Having a space and place to heal is the real hospital. Interesting in the word hospital since it originates from the meaning for guest and is the root word for hospice, hotel and hospitality. The key is the relation between guest and shelterer. As with my kolo trauma work and your grandmother’s letters the relations between us and them become one while accepting the diversity. When I faced the Bosnian women in the beginning of my work in Bosnia I knew I was in a room filled with my mother in everyone present. Something in what I felt opened up the space and place for us to bond and to heal.

While daunting I was able to move through my grief with my mother and her WWII concentration camp experience became the common experiences from which women bond, learn and evolve. I knew I had privatized my pain and suffering. My mother privatized her pain and survivorship of Jasenovac concentration camp. Shock cascaded through me since the violence against women stats became a lived knowing. What I mean is I realized the universal suffering and pain most women endure but we are not allowed to voice or speak our realities in a world of violence. Isolation from each other occurs. Women’s inhumanity to women perpetuates endlessly. When I danced the kolo with the women and men, we were all shoulder to shoulder although our feet were doing their diversity in dancing the same path. The feelings of detachment and divorce from female solidarity erased in the shoulder to shoulder circle and dance. Female solidarity flourishes once we include each of our stories and understand our pain and suffering is universal. Privatizing smothers any opportunity to bond out of strength. The movement to be in a circle or the kolo is non-verbal expression of female solidarity; bonding out of strength. There is no bonding as a martyr or a victim.

I love that you refer so often to Marija Gimbutas' scholarship, which I was so fascinated with in college. Her work on SE European goddess-worshipping culture is so profound, and highlights that region as such an important location for honoring the female. How did such a patriarchal, gynocidal culture evolve from one that was so in balance with the natural world of that region?

In the beginning my visits to Bosnia showed how penetrating trauma can be. How do I then work the trauma issue outside the patriarchal norms of authoritative institutions and the ethnic hatreds focused on women as targets? However, I knew the South Slavs in prehistory had a harmonious civilization with profound art in artifacts and their communities. The symbols in what Marija Gimbutas refers to as ‘Old Europe’ lasting until 1800 BCE guided a path to circumvent the patriarchy. What was striking in their kilms, needlework and beehive ovens was the Old Europe symbols. Imagine my awe when the women who used the Old Europe symbols knew the meaning without cracking any of the Marija Gimbutas’ books.

The kolo is Mesolithic in age and something all knew and often danced. In using Gimbutas’ materials and spinning through interdisciplinary fields I was able to excavate the balance of the natural world. When we did so there was great gnashing of teeth and horror. One elderly grandmother said aloud how she taught her children to hate and to hate women. Another woman questioned on the custom to revere the mother who has sons over one that has daughters. What spiraled was activism even if it was banging pots and/or marching the streets for garbage pickup. One woman stated life is better now after the war without the supermarkets, microwave since her small house with a field of crops brought her family together. She became the wise woman who know how to plant, ferment, cook, clean and organize into relations with the natural world and her family.

If you can trace back to when women were forced to carry their father’s name you will see the erasure of women; the erasure of relations with the natural world and; erasure of honoring females. In an old Villa outside Paris is the archeological museum. I moved through the salons of time from dinosaurs to present day. When I walked through the exhibits in the prehistoric window about 80,000 BCE was the Siberian sleeping Goddess artifact. More art popped up, such as the Willendorf Goddess artifact, which is 33,000 years old. But then, the Iron Age appeared with axes, swords and violence. Yet, when I look at culture and oral memory traditions vestiges of old harmonious way of life I find that it is still repeated. This brings me to my work and research where we need to ask what culture is. Many cite violence as culture with ‘boys will be boys’. So we need to ask what violence is. Culture is the way of life centering on women and their female biology processes. Women raise the children. Women create culture. When women forget their creator role in culture or are dominated to not assume their creator role we will continue to be dominated and complicit in following patriarchal norms of violence, we will have the escalating violence.

Finally, I would like to ask you a personal question. I also mentioned that I sense I have been on a "homing" instinct with the former Yugoslavia, traveling back through the influences of my grandmother, who also knew the Balkans because she read Black Lamb, Grey Falcon by the feminist, Rebecca West. This process took me 16 years! Do we go back to the places of deep ancestral knowledge, and even trauma? And I also wonder, why is the process sometimes so long, and so unclear?

The birds do it. The salmon in the oceans do it. It’s called migration. Migration is not refugees fleeing from horrors and violence. Diaspora is not migratory process. Not all species have the magnetic direction for migration. For instance cattle and deer will align themselves in the north-south direction of earth’s geomagnetic field. Pigeons have microscopic balls of iron in their inner ears. How do the whales and dolphins know their way in the vast oceans when migrating? Perhaps, this is the homing instinct you talk of.

It took me 16 years to write Blood & Honey: The Secret Herstory of Women. A very long migratory process and I am elementally changed due to it. I migrated back and forth to Bosnia throughout the years and many other war zones across the globe. My female tacit knowledge- the ‘more than we can tell’ intelligence looks at the epigenetic inheritance which is inseparable from our lived relations to our ecosphere and our cultural environments. I am reminded of that cast of thousands of generations and billions of main actors in the building of a continual process of learning and relearning. Hence, the definition of migration.

All of this is stored in our genome. What we repeat is how our DNA replicates and repeats. This is called evolution. Our biology of perception and our human perception is embodied and literally enworlded. When we learn or relearn we are migrating toward abundance- evolving not just ourselves but all of life. One research for bioculinary practice was about how chickens become fuller in the breast and bigger since the 1500’s because we were eating them.

I do not define trauma as a mental illness. If anything, trauma and the corresponding fright/flight neurological mechanism tell me it’s healthy. My definition of trauma is intensified learning. Yes, it is not something I would jump at to enroll in this beyond doctorate level learning. In fact, most would go kicking and screaming before succumbing to trauma events. Most likely, we relive the trauma over and over again due to the fright/flight mechanisms. Here we can introduce a question to ourselves; do we need to survive or do we need to thrive? That choice which is consciousness allows us to author which venue. Thriving is about the healing process and of course becoming authors of our own stories. The diversity of our stories like the diversity of the kolo dance steps offer up restructuring and reorganization of reality. We are consciously learning to relate to all our environments. Women, especially, learn the empowerment in the role of creator of culture. Men learn to preserve, support and protect culture and all environments. Together the prescience in relation to biological and social complexity- a social intelligence emerges.

Being unclear is not about a lack of clarity since when we make a decision it is with clarity. I think the pattern of being unclear is about not being comfortable with ambiguity. Pregnancy is a good example of being in ambiguity. Childhood not adulthood is a difficult endurance to neither be here or there since decisions release that tension effortlessly. Ambiguity is the state of being not doing. In our societies the fast paced and competitive demand to not fail force us to conform to doing and productivity. More importantly, ambiguity is akin to the kolo in manifesting space and place in time. We need to create a space and place for deep ancestral knowledge.

Biography

Dr. Danica Borkovich Anderson’s interests remain consistent with exploring trauma’s impact as not a death sentence but an enrollment into intensive learning and growth. As Danica points out, the essence is summed up in the concise, collaborative social justice and self-sustainability found in healing our own local communities and ourselves. It’s about ennobling and empowering those who have suffered catastrophic violence and crisis.

Working from a base as a forensic psychotherapist (Certified Clinical Criminal Justice Specialist #16713), a balance of her work has been abroad in Africa, Bosnia, India and Sri Lanka as well as in the United States. While in the U.S., Danica’s experience and training began with the Siletz Indian Tribe in Oregon covering thirteen counties. She served this area using her experience in the clinical field of sexual abuse and abuse issues for a number of years. She has also worked in crisis care for corporations and insurance agencies since 2000.

Danica’s professional experiences delve deeply into “untamed” territory and explores possible engendered approaches that are healing, collaborative and are in sync with the environment presented.

She has conducted extraordinary in-depth work with Bosnian Muslim women war survivors and war crimes survivors. This work is enhanced by Danica’s bi-lingual capacity as a Serbo-Croatian. A decade of work is completed and is now self-sustaining by the Bosnian women. As a Serbian-American daughter of former Yugoslav immigrants whose mother survived concentration camps, Danica researches trauma and its impact identified by social studies that are significantly centered on the female, thus radiating out into both genders and the community at large.

Danica’s consultancy work as a gender psycho-social victims’ expert with the International Criminal Court (The Hague, Netherlands), addresses the importance of a trauma treatment and training curriculum that is distinctive and responsive to the impact of catastrophe and disaster events. Her work considers a wider set of relationships between trauma and environment in which trauma is situated or, alternatively, how the specific culture is perceived in the trauma exposure. Fluid and adaptive across vastly differing and diverse penal and corrections/prison systems including those of military operations, the Kolo trauma treatment and training format has a much broader spatial scale of overall distribution, becoming self-sustainable via the affected population. Anderson’s service in the United Nations World Food Program for the largest humanitarian workforce on the planet in Sudan added profound insight to her research, allowing her to survey a substantive data base that further enhanced her Kolo format.

Danica’s experience and specific skills include:

• The ability to foster not just intellectual understanding but embodiment on topics that are elusive or difficult, cutting edge and innovative or very psychologically based.

• International speaker, presenter/trainer.

• The populations worked with range from: 1) Rebels, militia and war crimes perpetrators (Afghanistan, Africa-Chad, Congo, Sudan & Uganda) and victims of crimes; 2) In Oregon with the Siletz Indian Tribe providing services for 200 tribes and bands; 3) Interfacing and training with individuals and groups in Bosnia, India and Sri Lanka who are professionals in their native organizations as advocates, social workers, Buddhist priests and directors of the agencies open to developing cross cultural collaborative skills in the field; 4) Corporate environments, universities/colleges and speaking engagements at various institutions.

• As a grassroots non-profit, her The Kolo: Women’s Cross Cultural Collaboration work enables her to understand a depth and breadth of both human rights and female human rights especially honed to helping aid in real time and in stark truth positions. Crisis and disaster response protocols and crisis intervention/prevention development and implementation are a few of her in-depth skills. Engendered training programs are few yet critically needed in corporate environments.

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