A Genocidal Maniac & Pigtails.

Just a short note. A day late, but still worth sharing. Every Columbus Day I cringe, because I don't think he was such a great guy. He kind of sucked, big time. There are so many other people that we could celebrate with a national holiday, people that didn't lead a genocide. My general feelings about this can be summed up here, courtesy of my favorite Internet comic strip, The Oatmeal.

Anyway, not much time to write, but this not so special holiday always gives me a little smirk and it goes back to second grade. Yet again, another moment for which I have my mother to thank.

Mom was always good at teaching me the stories from outside the history books of grade school, and she made sure to teach me about Columbus and his genocidal rampage at a very early age. So, rewind back to second grade. I was seven years old, and had no problem expressing my own ideas, even if they didn't fall in line with my teacher or my schoolbook.

Bunny rabbit teeth, pigtails, and complete disgust
for Columbus. Yours truly in second grade. 

A one-page exam was placed on my desk. One of the first questions was, "Who was Christopher Columbus?". My waxy Crayola response was: A Genocidal Maniac.

Now, I don't know if any other child in my class knew that. I know my teacher didn't tell me that, but thanks to my mom, "Genocidal Maniac" is what I wrote. Good job, Mom!!!

The answer was marked wrong, and my teacher called my mom to complain. It was not the first or last time that something like this happened, but my parents were proud.

Some have asked me, "When did you become an activist?" Looking back, I can't remember when I wasn't an activist. I don't remember times when I didn't speak up, but those are more fun stories for another time.

Big Love,
Erin

Cambodian Women Organize To Protect Ancestral Rainforest

This is one from the vault. It's about an experience that I had in Cambodia, back in 2006. Enjoy.

During my two-hour motorbike trip to Blor Borcam of Cambodia's Rattanakiri province, I saw rolling lush rain forest, farmers planting rice, and stilted grass hut villages scattered about. The beauty was striking, but the forest was broken up like green islands, surrounded by an ocean of hacked and naked landscape. It was the most extreme deforestation that I have ever seen. How could this happen?

My long and bumpy journey ended, and my first inclination was to wipe the caked red dirt from my face so the real color of my skin could be seen. After washing in a stream, I was greeted by a trainer named Kol Propey who guided me to a group of indigenous village women who were in the midst of a community meeting. They were organizing themselves to stand up to greedy savages who have been illegally harvesting their forests all in the name of quick profit. We exchanged greetings, and the women began to share their stories.