During a time when tragedy hits Oakland, I think of how much I miss the old days of hanging around my kitchen table with friends, chain smoking and drinking wine. Ideas were forged around that table. Self-confidence, respect, and admiration was concocted from the many Tarot readings and cheese samplings. We were young, finding ourselves and reveling in the fact that I had my own apartment on Lake Merritt, where the sounds of geese, trumpet and Bart trains linger in the background. I've been in Oakland 10 years now, and seeing those young and hopeful faces who tragically perished in the Oakland fire reminds me that my experience is valuable. I have an obligation to contribute back to the community that which embraced me when I was young.
I used to be an avid raver, attending many underground parties in Oakland in the late 90's up until a few years ago. In fact I've attended one of those parties at the Ghost Ship. I was mesmerized by that space; the rampant collections of old trinkets, pianos, books and furniture. It was a complete maze in there and I felt, a strange sort of energy - like something or someone could pop out from the dark corners at any moment. I remember thinking, "yah, this place is a tinderbox". When I discovered news of the tragedy, I couldn't keep my fingers off the pulse of the internet. Reddit, major media, Facebook, twitter... I needed to know what happened. Since the search for bodies has completed, I am left feeling disgusted by how the story was portrayed by journalists only out to scoop each other. I myself was bombarded by the Chronicle at the vigil on Monday night. It is with great worry, that I fear the news cycle will turn the focus on the murder charges, investigation, blame, fault and character assassination. Most of all, the victims and their families and the now destitute survivors will find only silence while the focus changes. As a sibling survivor of a fallen soldier, I can only attest too much that down the road, it's gets fucking lonely. People forget, or they simply move on - but your life is forever changed and often some of the deeper griefs only come later when you've had time to let it all sink in. I hope Oakland never forgets these people; those left behind.
I have been disheartened by Oakland as of late. I have this incredible sense to hurry time up so my boyfriend and I can move in together somewhere else and "start" our lives. Events like this completely pull me back and plant me on my feet where I look out my bedroom window to see the old Tribune building after resting a flame-less candle at the altar on the lake and realize, this town is sacred. It holds all of my formations. It hold all of my worries. It holds all of my fears. It holds space for my jubilant joy, and my laughter too. It holds a mirror up to us all forcing us to realize that societal norms are not always kosher. It tells us that diversity, valuing creativity and art and underrepresented communities are in dire need of saving and supporting. Oakland is the harsh mirror to what must be done not only in this community, but in the world at large. It is not always pleasant, but it is always truthful.
Oakland gets under my skin all the time, because I am older, I am sober and I am restless. But the noisy streets, potholes and corrupt PD is a tiny, minuscule price to pay for the kind of love, acceptance and life-saving friendships that I have only found here, in this town. There are no other communities like it. There are no other cities with 40 different AA meetings to choose from everyday. There are no other cities that hold space for a vibrant Poet community or embrace every damn color, gender and sexual orientation on the spectrum let alone hold space for every kind of artist sanctioned by the city once a month. There is nowhere else to go if that is what brings you life. And isn't it? What is life without art or freedom of expression or lifestyle?
There is always a price to pay, however. The cost of inclusivity is not going to the artists, it is being paid by them. The marginalized and underrepresented populations are flocking to Oakland because of our vibrant culture of acceptance and creative fostering atmosphere - and if we as a society are unwilling to put our money where our mouths are - the result is tragic. Art fades, creativity lost, and lives paid. I am wholly inspired to follow my own path of writing, as it has nagged at my soul since youth. I do not think dying for one's art is a price anyone should be willing to pay, but until society begins to value it with their own pockets, remaining silent is allowing those poor, beautiful victims to have died in vain. I'm tired of senseless, tragic, death. Death itself is inevitable, but mass, senseless and needless death is unacceptable. Those poor souls keep screaming in my head. This is a wake up call. I sure hope I have the courage to heed it. I hope you do too.
To donate to the victims' families and survivors of this tragedy, go here.
To donate to the victims' families and survivors of this tragedy, go here.
Be well.
Jaime
