NO REST FOR THE AWAKE - MINAGAHET CHAMORRO

--> Another Liberation Day has come and gone, and with each passing year, more and more questions emerge about the meaning of this important event and our relationship to it. More people seem willing to question whether or not the US return to Guam in 1944 was a liberation, but for each person who earnestly asks that question, there is usually another who raises their voice in indignant defense of the liberation, demanding that it not be questioned. For them it is a sacred event for our elders and should require our patriotism and gratitude and nothing more. One of the misconceptions that people have in life, is the notion that something sacred should not be questioned or analyzed. I would propose instead that something sacred holds such depth and power, that its meaning can sustain questioning or scrutiny. If people shout down those who have earnest questions about Liberation Day in the name of it being sacred, more likely they are scared of how the concept will fal

Throughout my interviews that I conducted for my graduate school research, when the issue of decolonization would emerge in the discussion, regardless of the demographic intersections of the interview subject, regardless of their life experiences or their level of education, all of them would find some way of saying that on the topic of political status change, mungga ma'åkka' i kannai ni' muna'boboka hao, don't bite the hand that feeds you. This narrative, while understandable for an island stuck in what I refer to as the decolonial deadlock, it was frustrating for someone who was seeking to study decolonization and convince other Chamorros of the need for it. Eventually, at some point amidst the interview conducting, the critical theory reading and the online ranting, I ended up watching the 200 movie Lumumba directed by Raoul Peck. It tells the story of the final months of Patrice Lumumba, an inspirational figure in African and global decolonization, who was th

Last year when I attended the United Nations Regional Seminar in Nicaragua I had the chance to meet and talk to Reverend Conrad Howell from the Turks and Caicos, a fellow Non-Self-Governing Territory just like Guam, albeit in the Caribbean and with a different colonizer, the United Kingdom. Reverend Howell was clearly charismatic, even just from the few days that I spent with him at the seminar. He was articulate and not afraid to stir up controversy. Like many other people that I've met from Non-Self-Governing Territories, we face similar problems of being small, being faraway and being forgotten. These issues are relative of course, but when we imagine the possibilities for our future, we feel a massive weight bearing down on us, which seems to compel so many of us to think that we shouldn't try to change anything, that our colonial situations are necessary because of our minuscule realities, we just need to accept being hopelessly dependent. But in each of our islands, w

In this picture, former Governor of Guam Manuel Guerrero is seen talking to US Navy officers during the rehabilitation period following the devastation caused by Typhoon Karen in 1962. Typhoons Karen and Pamela were not only devastating in a physical sense, in that they caused a great deal of damage, they were also devastating and transformative in a social sense, in that the island that was rebuilt after them was very different than the one that had just been obliterated. After both of these typhoons, the US Federal government assisted in rebuilding, even to the point where not only did people start building concrete homes, but new division through new subdivisions were also formed. The days of wooden homes and tin roofing was over for many people after these storms as the reconstruction money allowed them to build new and sturdier homes. But the changes from these typhoons goes even further. When Chamorros receive aid from the US, it helped to reaffirm a particular type of relati

The way people conceive of Guam's economic health is mired in colonial feelings of inferiority and the contradictions that naturally emerge. As a small island in the middle of the ocean, Guam is naturally thought to have nothing according to the base epistemology of Europeans. Such a way of seeing the world and mapping its sense of value and naturalness is tied to the land. The land is safe, the land is secure, the land is what offers the chance to build, to horde, to make something. The ocean is the opposite. The ocean is the frightening infinite, the terrorizing endlessness, it holds the possibilities for imagining and perceiving that which is beyond the immediate and apparent, but the cost of this is that it cannot be trusted. The ocean and those places defined by it surrounding and connecting them, are the exceptions not the norm. Even if the land has its own inconsistencies and problems (kao manmaleffa todu put i linao siha?), the ocean is seen as impossible in contrast to

My first experience with the UN wasn't very useful or inspiring. Chamorros and representatives of Guam have been going to the United Nations to testify before the 4th Committee for more than 30 years. I became one of them in 2007. Prior to testifying I already knew quite a bit about the UN process and so I wasn't expecting that my testimony would make much of a difference. Those who come from colonies or non-self-governing territories like Guam don't get representation at the UN, but they do get a few chances to let their concerns be heard. The 4th Committee is the most auspicious of such occasions. You get to testify in a large room in front of delegates from the entire world. But the potential for the moment means little in terms of its actual effect. The day I testified it was like moving through an assembly line. Names were called. Testimonies given. Thanks given for the testimony. Move on, next name. It went on like that for hours. There were no questions asked whi

Yasukatsu Matsushima is a strong, but polite voice for Okinawa's Independence. I first met him last year while he was in Guam doing research. I took him and Ed Alvarez, who was showing him around the island, on a hike to Pagat. I later met him again when we both spoke at a conference on decolonization in Guam and Okinawa at Okinawa International University last May. He returned to Guam in July of last year with Masaki Tomochi another Okinawan professor, and I took them and two Japanese professors on a rainy hike to Pagat. I am fortunate that this trip our paths crossed again. Yasukatsu may seem unassuming and quiet when you first meet him, but make no mistake, he is very determined and very assertive in his advocacy for Okinawa's independence. In both Okinawa and Guam independence is something considered impossible, taboo or anti-Japanese/American. It is something that is crazy and worse yet something that would disrupt the existing dependent relation

(Kada sakkan gi este na mes, hu tuge' este na post ta'lo. Hu fa'nuebu didide'. Este na mas kabales na hinasso-ku put Mes Chamoru) It’s Chamorro month again, or mes Chamorro ta’lo. That means that the landscape of Guam changes in some small and large ways, to bring out more of the island’s “Chamorro side.” It’s the only month of the year that you might see more Guam flags than American flags. It’s the only month that you can actually hear a large group of young people, actively debating and creating in the Chamorro language. Its also the month during which communication between grand kids, great-grand kids and their respective elders is usually at an all time high due to class assignments about Guam history. I imagine there is an increased demand for Chamorro related tattoos. Lastly, it’s also the third most important time period for t-shirt vendors on Guam, after election season and the month of July (Liberation Day). It can be both an exciting and depr

One of the most curious creatures that I’ve met as I’ve traveled to Okinawa, Japan and South Korea is a particular form of Rightist conservative. The majority of people whom I’ve interacted with during my research and solidarity trips over the past three years have all been leftists, albeit a variety of leftists. I talk and work with liberals, progressives, peace activists, decolonization and demilitarization activists and so the conversation usually sticks to a pretty familiar side of the ideological spectrum. But as I’ve travelled the other side, with its own diversity of opinion has always been there. During my trip to Okinawa last month pro-military, rightist conservatives were always around the edges of my sphere of being, threatening to enter, but never really making a solid appearance. For example during a two day symposium at Okinawan International University on demilitarism and decolonization, a threat was called in to one of the organizers, stating that conservat

If I had more time I would love to write and research more the meaning of Food Stamps on Guam. Like most things in life, people tend to view them negatively through the people who use them. They complain about them towards the start of each month, when they crowd the aisles and choke the lines of grocery stores. They are viewed as things which suck away life, and make things weak. But are they really? We see so many forms of Federal aid as things that make us lazy, and show how sad and dependent we are, but why do we rarely reverse that ideological equation? Since food stamps are so bad, why do we not see more people condemn the US for weakening the people of Guam and taking away their ability to work or sustain themselves?  One of the reasons why doing research on food stamps here could be very productive is because of the way Guam is not just a state, but rather a territory, a colony as well. So what is a simple ideological argument in the states, against racialized groups or poor gr

My dissertation in Ethnic Studies is dedicated to three people. One is my daughter Sumåhi, sa’ guiya i mas maolek yan månnge na palao’an gi hilo’ tano’ yan gi todu estoria. The other is for my son Akli’e’. Ti sen maolek gui’ taiguihi i che’lu-ña, lao guiya I mas kinute na patgon gi hilo’ tano’. The last dedication goes to an Ancient Chamorro warrior, a maga’låhi named Chelef, who fought against the Spanish in the late 1670s and was eventually executed for his crimes against them. The dedication to my kids should obvious. I hope that in time I will be able to publish enough things so that everyone I love in my life can have something where their name and a few loving words appear in its opening pages. But why dedicate something to Chelef, a Maga’låhi who is not as famous as figures such as Hurao, Mata’pang, Kepuha or even Agualin? The reason is because of the way one of his acts against the Spanish, mirrored in a way the critical intervention I was attempting in my dissertation. In m