What you don't know about your cell phone

Your cell phone is made from a mineral called coltane (as is your iPod, your microprocessor, etc.). It's a mineral found in the Dem. Rep. of Congo (DRC). Because of the scramble for this mineral and the way it's being taken out of the country by Western and Chinese multinationals, 40 women are raped each day. (Of course the mineral exists elsewhere, but nowhere else can companies get it for cheaper!) It's now considered one of the deadliest wars...and yet not much is being done to address it.

I just went to a most amazing presentation and round table last night with Laetitia and her mom. I'm so glad they included me, because it not only was absolutely necessary to learn more about this situation, but it sparked what has been recently brewing in my mind: the need to be involved again. The discussion was lead by the French Sec. of State for Human Rights, France's youngest minister ever, being in her late 20s/early 30s, and Eve Ensler, the writer of The Vagina Monologues. I had no idea that the woman who wrote that play was such an activist. But she is, and her message is extremely powerful. Stop raping our women. Violence against women CANNOT be normalized....and if we remain quiet, if we let the women be humiliated by their violations (instead of the men who did the raping!), then we are sanctioning the violence. And it will continue. There were representatives from numerous other organizations, as well as a good audience ready to engage with the panelists. It was inspiring...and madenning.

The following is Eve Ansler's organization: vday.com; and here is a link to a 60 Minutes story that was done in 2008 on the war and the raping of Congolese women: http://www.cbsnews.com/stories/2008/01/11/60minutes/main3701249.shtml?source=search_story. And below is my own response/reflection after having experienced what I did last night.

How do I sit here and write about the ideas that I just heard articulated so eloquently last night in a context where they weren’t just formulated behind a desk in an office on a university campus, but were learned and felt from the vibrating rhythms of dancing and crying and shouting and sharing? How do I bring together all of these brilliant ideas, those which make my body feel nervous with surging energy, those that make me want to get out and act, to organize and give back and move forward…how do I bring them together in any meaningful way when I am limited to 2 dimensions? Limited to dialogue. Limited by language, which isn’t even necessary when the dancing, crying, shouting, and sharing convey more than words in any language ever could. When body language and a simple touch can say more than bungled French coming out of these American fingers? My fingers will always speak, my hand will always move across the paper. But my body can’t sit any longer. My conscience knows that I have stories to collect, experiences to recount. That my soul has been disengaged for too long, that I’m ready to pick it back up and see where it will take me.