Hello all,
There is a Palistinian film festival in Portland right now and a lot of
discussion. I thought this letter from an American in Palestine on the
day sheikh yassin was assassinated was thoughtful and worth sharing.
jessie
---------- Forwarded Message ----------
Date: Friday, March 26, 2004 10:23 AM -0600
From: Brenna Bell <brenna-iUKsbRF+RMUdnm+yROfE0A@xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx>
To: nlg-list-jNMiF0OvOZ83uPMLIKxrzw@xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Subject: Fwd: [starhawk] The Day of the Assassination (fwd)
yesterday i received the email below from a friend of mine who is
currently in palestine (the format is a little crazy, but its worth
reading). she wrote it the day that the israeli army assassinated
sheikh yassin. and last night i went to the film festival and watched
rana's wedding, which portrays life trying to be lived in the midst of
a military occupation.
The Day of the Assassination
By Starhawk
3/22/04
=20
Just as I grab my computer in bed this morning to write some
thoughts about nonviolence, I get a call from Neta. I am in Beit
Sahour doing a training for a small group of internationals and some
of the core of those who will be trainers. She is in Ramallah. This
morning, in Gaza, the Israelis assassinated Sheikh Yassin, the
spiritual leader of Hamas. He was an old man in his nineties,
confined to a wheelchair, coming out of the Mosque after morning
prayers. A perfect martyr.
=B3Everything=B9s going to go crazy,=B2 Neta says. =B3If
Sharon w= anted to
set off a bloodbath, he couldn=B9t have done anything better. People
will = be
lining up to die.=B2 She=B9s deeply upset, walking the streets of
Ramallah with Nizar, her husband, still trying to encourage that late
baby to get on with the process of being born into this rough world.
I=B9ve been lying here thinking about violence and
nonviolence and struggle. I=B9m in a small hotel in Beit
Sahour where we do trainings. It= =B9s
been being renovated, since last year, in some spirit of undying
optimism that someday normality, and tourists, will return to this
region. Bethlehem is a closed up city, dying from economic
starvation now that the thousands of Christian tourists can no longer
come. Last year, right before Easter, another ISM volunteer and I
got a tour of the Church of the Nativity=8Bwe w= ere
the only ones there, and it was eerie and quiet in the stone halls
and the deep chamber where Jesus was presumably born. Only a few
monks walked the halls, and up on the roof, we could still see the
bullet holes of the assaults from the year before.
Yesterday, as we began the training, our friends in the
village of Kharbata were sitting in front of the bulldozers
again. I felt terribly torn=8Bwanting to be there with them and yet
having a commitment to be here. My focus for this trip is
training=8Bthat seems to be the way I can make my best contribution.
But my heart is always with the action. And its anguish to be
getting reports=8Btwelve injured, twenty-five injured, one village wo=
man
shot in the eye with a rubber bullet, one ISM volunteer detained,
possibly arrested, others shot in the leg, hurt=8Bwithout being able
to be there and= do
something. There=B9s the stress, and the quite irrational but real
guilt, = and
the less admirable but also real sense of somehow missing out on the
excitement.=20
Which of those women I marched with lost an eye? Was it the
old woman with the toothless grin who limped up to us over
the rocks, raised a stick above her head and cried out =B3Allah
Akhbar!=B2 Was it the mother, grandmother of the sweet young girl
who tried to teach me how to say =B3swimming=B9 and =B3oasis=B2 in
Arabic? One young Israeli was shot betwe= en the
eyes with a rubber bullet: I think that I met him last year at
Mas=B9Ha pea= ce
camp. It amused me so much to hear the Palestinians hailing him,
=B3Levins= ky!
Yala!! Let=B9s go!=B2
These trainings are in the same place we were working last
year. Tom Hurndall sat in these chairs, did the roll plays,
the active listening exercises, and then went down to Rafah. Just a
few days later, he was shot. We were clear in the training then, and
we are even more clear now=8Byou can die doing this work. =B3It=B9s
hard for any of us to imagine our own death= ,=B2 I
tell the group as we are role playing out how to respond to tear gas,
rubber bullets, sound bombs, and live ammunition. =B3But do think
about it. Tell yourself that it really can be you, and ask yourself
if you are still willing to do this.=B2
On Saturday I went to Bir Zeit University, in a village
outside of Ramallah, to speak to a group of students and
show them our powerpoint slide show of actions around the world.
There were about twenty students and a few teachers, including some
of a small core group that wants to organize a Right to Education
campaign. We had a good discussion after about strategy. Bir Zeit is
a beautiful campus, high on a hill, with elegant stone buildings
donated mostly by wealthy individuals and modern facilities. The
student body, I=B9m told, are like most of the relatively privileged
students around the world=8Bdeeply immersed in their own affairs,
hard to mobilize. Riham Barghouti, director of Public Relations, who
has organized the talk, told me how hard it is to motivate students
to get active now. =B3The first intifada involved massive
noncooperation with the occupation,=B2 she said.
=B3Everyone was involved, from all classes of soc= iety.
People boycotted Israeli goods. They tore up their I.D. cards. It
was primarily nonviolent, a massive popular resistance. And everyone
felt together. We were clear about what we were struggling for. But
then we got Oslo, this agreement with no teeth in it. We were
split=8Bsome for it, some against. Even so, some of those who were
against it at first, they were beginning to come around, to think,
=8CWell, maybe we can make something of this.=B9=B2 But then came
more settlements, more settlers=B9 roads, more restrictions on
movement, more land confiscations, more deaths. The second intifada
is more grim, more focused on armed struggle. =B3People think all
Palestinians are the same,=B2 Riham says, =B3As if we were all one
person, one terrorist. But we=B9re not. Most people don=B9t want to
be fighters. They want to find some way to struggle for their land,
their rights, and they don=B9t want to use violence. But it=B9s much
harder now,= to
believe that a nonviolent struggle can succeed. They say, =8CWe did
that= =B9, or
=8COur parents did that, and look what it got us.=B9=B2
There=B9s an ecology to repression. The closures and checkpoints and
road blocks make movement within the West Bank extremely difficult.
Each town is separated from the others by checkpoints. The Israelis
have built wide, fast roads for the settlers to get to settlements,
or for a tourist from Jerusalem to head up to the Lake of Galilee or
down to the Dead Sea. But Palestinians cannot travel on those roads,
at risk of being shot. =B3We used to go to Nablus or Hebron or
Bethlehem, for a day or a visit,=B2 Riham says. =B3We could drink
coffee, share ideas, discuss things. New id= eas
got spread around. Issues could be debated. Now, it=B9s years since
I=B9ve been to Nablus. I have no idea what they=B9re thinking up
there. And the k= ids
come from the villages or the more conservative towns, and go to
University here. They used to go back, and bring more of the
progressive ideas with them. Now, they don=B9t go back. They
can=B9t find work there, and they c= an=B9t
live in that atmosphere. So they stay in Ramallah. Ramallah is
Occupation Lite, there=B9s more openness here. You can get to
Jerusalem. They=B9ve allowed more money to flow into here, there=B9s
more development. But it can=B9t absorb all those new doctors and
engineers. And then the other plac= es
grow more closed, more conservative, and the split between them and
Ramallah deepens. I know with people dying every day and houses
getting demolished, it=B9s hard to care about the stifling of
intellectual life, but that=B9s p= art
of it, too.=B2
Sharon and his supporters, with their policies of repression and
closure and isolation, are in fact creating exactly the conditions
that foster the kind of narrow fundamentalism they profess to fear.
At least they fear it in Islam: they pander to it in Judaism.
In the morning it is my turn to negotiate the checkpoints. I wake up
before 6 AM, take a taxi to Kalendia where I wait in line with the
women and the young teenagers going to school. We are the fortunate
ones: our line moves relatively quickly and in fifteen or twenty
minutes I am facing a bored young soldier who directs me a second
bored young woman soldier. She looks at my passport and waves me
through. But the hundred or so men waiting next to me seem to move
slowly if at all, and I wonder how long it will take them to get to
their morning=B9s work.
I catch a service on the other side, with a bad exhaust system that
fills the back, where I am riding, with fumes. Halfway into
Jerusalem, we are stopped by yet another soldier, who demands our
passports and wants me to open my bag. He glances at the video
camera, then lets us go. The man in front of me shakes his head.
=B3They are bad people,=B2 he says. =B3You s= ee!=B2
I abandon the service a little too early and walk a few blocks on the
outskirts of the Old City, back to the Faisal where I meet the group
that will go through the training together. We take another service
to the outskirts of Bethlehem, to the roadblock that has no real
checkpoint but a guard tower with soldiers who generally don=B9t
appear. We walk up the hil= l,
and get into taxis that have been ordered on the other side, which
take us to Beit Sahour.
The first day of training goes well, it=B9s a small group, about seven
trainees, three from Britain, one from the US, and three Swedes.
Four of the longterm ISM activists who are learning to be trainers
also come, to observe and support. By the end of the day, I am
tired, and after dinner I drop into bed and sleep deeply until
Neta=B9s call wakes me. It=B9s a struggle to concentrate. Everyone is
upset about Sheikh Yassin. T= he
assassination is seen as an assault on the entire community and on
Islam itself. And those who think in terms of policy see it as a
calculated move on Sharon=B9s part=8Bto provoke more suicide
bombings, to open the door for major incursions again, to forestall
any pressure toward a peace process. The young boy who lives in the
hotel, about eleven years old, looks at me with shocked eyes. =B3He
was ninety-two years old,=B2 he says to me, shaki= ng
his head. And then, =B3Have you seen =B3The Passion of Christ?=B2 I
tell = him I
haven=B9t. He says it is very good, he has seen it twice, on DVD.
=B3But = why
do they want to kill such an old man,=B2 he asks. =B3Soon he=B9ll be
dead a= nyway.=B2
We=B9re getting reports, of demonstrations in Ramallah, Nablus, even
right here in Bethlehem, of more killings and more martyrs. Rumors
of death. At our morning check-in, everyone is restless.
=B3it=B9s part of the quality of being here that you always feel you
should= be
somewhere else, that the real action is happening elsewhere. But
we=B9re here, and we=B9re doing something that will make our work
more effective in the long run, So let=B9s just be present here and
focus.=B2 I=B9m really s= aying
it to myself, of course.
But we do, in spite of the ongoing doubt about whether or not we can
get out of Beit Sahour and back to Jerusalem or Ramallah. Neta calls
and says she has been to the doctor and they are considering whether
they need to induce labor that afternoon. Hisahm tells me he has not
ordered cars yet, that there are soldiers at the back way out and the
checkpoint is closed, and fighting at kalendia. Ramallah is closed.
I work a bit harder to stay focused,=20
We are careful to end early enough that we can begin our travel back
before dark. And, in the way things can change here, suddenly the
cars are here and the soldiers are gone and we are picking our way up
the hill and out of Bethlehem. Back to Jerusalem, where I say
goodbye to the others and head around the corner to grab a bus to
Kalendia, which seems to be leaving just as usual. Back to Kalendia,
where soldiers walk above the checkpoint but no one stops us from
entering. Back to neta=B9s house, to spend a quiet eveni= ng
and a quiet day today, working on the training manual while Neta
makes a hundred phone calls trying to decide whether to reschedule
our coordinator= =B9s
trainings, as the roads are closed from Nablus and Jenin. No one can
get in or out. We don=B9t know if they will reopen by the weekend,
or, if we postpone until next week, if something else won=B9t happen
that will close them again. Today everyone is on strike, the shops
are closed, the streets eerily quiet. This is the Palestine I=B9m
familiar with, the shuttered doo= rs
and windows, the silence. Everyone seems sad today, and tired, the
very streets steeped in sorrow. It=B9s a strike, today, however, not
a curfew=8Bthere is no fear of soldiers rounding a corner with guns
ready to fire, no tanks. Yet. The fear is deeper, more endemic.
Somewhere someone is planning revenge. Someone is alive today who
will soon be dead, because of this assassination. And after the
revenge will come the retaliation, the tanks, the demolitions, the
closures. It feels like the calm before the storm.
=20
www.starhawk.org <http://www.starhawk.org/>
Starhawk is an activist, organizer, and author of Webs of
Power: Notes from the Global Uprising and eight other
books on feminism, politics and earth-based spirituality. She
teaches Earth Activist Trainings that combine permaculture design and
activist skills, and works with the RANT trainer=B9s collective,
www.rantcollective.org
<http://www.rantcollective.org/> that offers training and support for
mobilizations around global justice and peace issues.
These updates will be posted on her website, www.starhawk.org
<http://www.starhawk.org/> , and on the Utne Reader website,
www.Utne.com <http://www.Utne.com/> .
=20
To get Starhawk=B9s periodic posts of her writings, email
Starhawk-subscribe-3hfIC0tI0F+k/GrYEfjPQg@xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
<mailto:Starhawk-subscribe-3hfIC0tI0F+k/GrYEfjPQg@xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx> and put
=8Csubscribe=B9
in the subject heading. If you=B9re on that list and don=B9t want any
more of these writings, email
Starhawk-unsubscribe-3hfIC0tI0F+k/GrYEfjPQg@xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
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subject heading.
=20
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Content-transfer-encoding: quoted-printable
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<HEAD>
<TITLE>The Day of the Assassination</TITLE>
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<FONT FACE=3D"New York"><SPAN STYLE=3D'font-size:12.0px'>The Day of
the Ass= assination<BR>
By Starhawk<BR>
3/22/04<BR>
<BR>
Just as I grab
my com= puter in bed this morning to write some thoughts about
nonviolence, I get a= call from Neta. I am in Beit Sahour doing
a training for a small gro= up of internationals and some of the
core of those who will be trainers. Sh= e is in Ramallah. This
morning, in Gaza, the Israelis assassinated &n= bsp;Sheikh Yassin,
the spiritual leader of Hamas. He was an old man i= n his
nineties, confined to a wheelchair, coming out of the Mosque after mo=
rning prayers. A perfect martyr. <BR>
“Everythi
ngR= 17;s going to go crazy,” Neta says. “If
Sharon wanted to = set off a bloodbath, he couldn’t have done
anything better. Peo= ple will be lining up to die.”
She’s deeply upset, = walking the streets of
Ramallah with Nizar, her husband, still trying to en= courage that
late baby to get on with the process of being born into this r= ough
world.<BR>
I’ve been
lying= here thinking about violence and nonviolence and struggle.
I’m= in a small hotel in Beit Sahour where we do
trainings. It’s be= en being renovated, since last year,
in some spirit of undying optimism tha= t someday normality, and
tourists, will return to this region. Bethle= hem is a closed
up city, dying from economic starvation now that the thousa= nds of
Christian tourists can no longer come. Last year, right before=
Easter, another ISM volunteer and I got a tour of the Church of the
Nativi= ty—we were the only ones there, and it was eerie and
quiet in the sto= ne halls and the deep chamber where Jesus was
presumably born. Only a few m= onks walked the halls, and up on the
roof, we could still see the bullet ho= les of the assaults from the
year before.<BR>
Yesterday, as
we bega= n the training, our friends in the village of Kharbata were
sitting in fron= t of the bulldozers again. I felt terribly
torn—wanting to be t= here with them and yet having a
commitment to be here. My focus for t= his trip is
training—that seems to be the way I can make my best cont=
ribution. But my heart is always with the action. And its
angui= sh to be getting reports—twelve injured, twenty-five
injured, one vil= lage woman shot in the eye with a rubber bullet,
one ISM volunteer detained= , possibly arrested, others shot in the
leg, hurt—without being able = to be there and do something.
There’s the stress, and the quite= irrational but real
guilt, and the less admirable but also real sense of s= omehow
missing out on the excitement. <BR>
Which of those
women = I marched with lost an eye? Was it the old woman with
the toothless g= rin who limped up to us over the rocks, raised a
stick above her head and c= ried out “Allah Akhbar!”
Was it the mother, grandmother o= f the sweet young girl who
tried to teach me how to say “swimmingR= 17; and
“oasis” in Arabic? One young Israeli was shot bet=
ween the eyes with a rubber bullet: I think that I met him last year
at Mas= ’Ha peace camp. It amused me so much to hear the
Palestinians h= ailing him, “Levinsky! Yala!! Let’s
go!”<BR>
These trainings
are i= n the same place we were working last year. Tom Hurndall
sat in these= chairs, did the roll plays, the active listening
exercises, and then went = down to Rafah. Just a few days
later, he was shot. We were clea= r in the training then, and
we are even more clear now—you can die do= ing this work.
“It’s hard for any of us to imagine our ow= n
death,” I tell the group as we are role playing out how to
respond = to tear gas, rubber bullets, sound bombs, and live
ammunition. “= ;But do think about it. Tell yourself
that it really can be you, and = ask yourself if you are still
willing to do this.”<BR>
On Saturday I
went to= Bir Zeit University, in a village outside of Ramallah, to
speak to a group= of students and show them our powerpoint slide
show of actions around the = world. There were about twenty
students and a few teachers, including= some of a small core group
that wants to organize a Right to Education cam= paign. We had a
good discussion after about strategy. Bir Zeit is a b= eautiful
campus, high on a hill, with elegant stone buildings donated mostl= y
by wealthy individuals and modern facilities. The student body,
I&#= 8217;m told, are like most of the relatively privileged students
around the= world—deeply immersed in their own affairs, hard to
mobilize. = Riham Barghouti, director of Public Relations, who
has organized the talk, = told me how hard it is to motivate students
to get active now.<BR>
“The
first inti= fada involved massive noncooperation with the
occupation,” she said. = “Everyone was involved,
from all classes of society. Peop= le boycotted Israeli goods.
They tore up their I.D. cards. It w= as primarily
nonviolent, a massive popular resistance. And everyone f= elt
together. We were clear about what we were struggling for.
= But then we got Oslo, this agreement with no teeth in it.
We were spl= it—some for it, some against. Even so, some
of those who were against= it at first, they were beginning to come
around, to think, ‘Well, ma= ybe we can make something of
this.’” But then came more s= ettlements, more
settlers’ roads, more restrictions on movement, more= land
confiscations, more deaths. <BR>
The second intifada is more grim, more focused on armed struggle.
= 220;People think all Palestinians are the same,”
Riham says, “A= s if we were all one person, one terrorist.
But we’re not. &nbs= p;Most people don’t want to be
fighters. They want to find some= way to struggle for their
land, their rights, and they don’t want to= use violence.
But it’s much harder now, to believe that a nonv= iolent
struggle can succeed. They say, ‘We did that’, or =
‘Our parents did that, and look what it got
us.’”<BR> There’s an ecology to repression.
The closures and checkpoints = and road blocks make movement
within the West Bank extremely difficult. &nb= sp;Each town is
separated from the others by checkpoints. The Israelis have= built
wide, fast roads for the settlers to get to settlements, or for a to=
urist from Jerusalem to head up to the Lake of Galilee or down to the
Dead = Sea. But Palestinians cannot travel on those roads, at
risk of being = shot.<BR>
“We used to go to Nablus or Hebron or Bethlehem, for a day or a
visit= ,” Riham says. “We could drink coffee, share
ideas, discu= ss things. New ideas got spread around.
Issues could be debated= . Now, it’s years since
I’ve been to Nablus. I have= no idea what they’re
thinking up there. And the kids come from the v= illages or the more
conservative towns, and go to University here. Th= ey used to
go back, and bring more of the progressive ideas with them. &nbs=
p;Now, they don’t go back. They can’t find work
there, an= d they can’t live in that atmosphere. So they
stay in Ramallah.= Ramallah is Occupation Lite, there’s
more openness here.  = ;You can get to Jerusalem.
They’ve allowed more money to flow i= nto here,
there’s more development. But it can’t absorb a= ll
those new doctors and engineers. And then the other places grow more
clo= sed, more conservative, and the split between them and Ramallah
deepens. I = know with people dying every day and houses getting
demolished, it’s = hard to care about the stifling of
intellectual life, but that’s part= of it, too.”<BR>
Sharon and his supporters, with their policies of repression and
closure an= d isolation, are in fact creating exactly the conditions
that foster the ki= nd of narrow fundamentalism they profess to fear.
At least they fear = it in Islam: they pander to it in
Judaism.<BR>
In the morning it is my turn to negotiate the checkpoints. I
wake up = before 6 AM, take a taxi to Kalendia where I wait in line
with the women an= d the young teenagers going to school. We
are the fortunate ones: &nb= sp;our line moves relatively quickly and
in fifteen or twenty minutes I am = facing a bored young soldier who
directs me a second bored young woman sold= ier. She looks at
my passport and waves me through. But the hun= dred or so men
waiting next to me seem to move slowly if at all, and I wond= er how
long it will take them to get to their morning’s work.<BR> I
catch a service on the other side, with a bad exhaust system that
fills t= he back, where I am riding, with fumes. Halfway into
Jerusalem, we are stop= ped by yet another soldier, who demands our
passports and wants me to open = my bag. He glances at the
video camera, then lets us go. The ma= n in front of me shakes
his head. “They are bad people,” = he says.
“You see!”<BR>
I abandon the <I>service</I> a little too early and walk a few blocks
on th= e outskirts of the Old City, back to the Faisal where I meet
the group that= will go through the training together. We take
another service to th= e outskirts of Bethlehem, to the roadblock
that has no real checkpoint but = a guard tower with soldiers who
generally don’t appear. We walk= up the hill, and get
into taxis that have been ordered on the other side, = which take us
to Beit Sahour.<BR>
The first day of training goes well, it’s a small group, about
seven = trainees, three from Britain, one from the US, and three
Swedes. Four= of the longterm ISM activists who are learning to
be trainers also come, t= o observe and support. By the end of
the day, I am tired, and after d= inner I drop into bed and sleep
deeply until Neta’s call wakes me.<BR> It’s a struggle to
concentrate. Everyone is upset about Sheikh Yassin= . The
assassination is seen as an assault on the entire community and= on
Islam itself. And those who think in terms of policy see it as
a = calculated move on Sharon’s part—to provoke more
suicide bombin= gs, to open the door for major incursions again, to
forestall any pressure = toward a peace process. <BR>
The young boy who lives in the hotel, about eleven years old, looks
at me w= ith shocked eyes. “He was ninety-two years
old,” he says = to me, shaking his head. And then,
“Have you seen “The Pa= ssion of Christ?” I
tell him I haven’t. He says it = is very good, he has
seen it twice, on DVD. “But why do they wa= nt to kill
such an old man,” he asks. “Soon he’ll be dead=
anyway.”<BR>
We’re getting reports, of demonstrations in Ramallah, Nablus,
even ri= ght here in Bethlehem, of more killings and more martyrs.
Rumors of d= eath. At our morning check-in, everyone is
restless.<BR>
“it’s part of the quality of being here that you always
feel yo= u should be somewhere else, that the real action is
happening elsewhere. &n= bsp;But we’re here, and we’re
doing something that will make ou= r work more effective in the long
run, So let’s just be present here = and focus.”
I’m really saying it to myself, of course.<BR> But we do,
in spite of the ongoing doubt about whether or not we can get ou= t
of Beit Sahour and back to Jerusalem or Ramallah. Neta calls
and sa= ys she has been to the doctor and they are considering
whether they need to= induce labor that afternoon. Hisahm tells
me he has not ordered cars= yet, that there are soldiers at the back
way out and the checkpoint is clo= sed, and fighting at kalendia.
Ramallah is closed. I work a bit= harder to stay focused,
<BR>
We are careful to end early enough that we can begin our travel back
before= dark. And, in the way things can change here, suddenly
the cars are = here and the soldiers are gone and we are picking our
way up the hill and o= ut of Bethlehem. Back to Jerusalem,
where I say goodbye to the others= and head around the corner to grab
a bus to Kalendia, which seems to be le= aving just as usual.
Back to Kalendia, where soldiers walk above the = checkpoint
but no one stops us from entering. Back to neta’s ho=
use, to spend a quiet evening and a quiet day today, working on the
trainin= g manual while Neta makes a hundred phone calls trying to
decide whether to= reschedule our coordinator’s trainings, as
the roads are closed from= Nablus and Jenin. No one can get in
or out. We don’t kno= w if they will reopen by the
weekend, or, if we postpone until next week, i= f something else
won’t happen that will close them again. Today= everyone
is on strike, the shops are closed, the streets eerily quiet. &nb=
sp;This is the Palestine I’m familiar with, the shuttered doors
and w= indows, the silence. Everyone seems sad today, and
tired, the very st= reets steeped in sorrow. It’s a
strike, today, however, not a c= urfew—there is no fear of
soldiers rounding a corner with guns ready = to fire, no tanks. Yet.
The fear is deeper, more endemic. Somew= here someone is
planning revenge. Someone is alive today who will soo= n be
dead, because of this assassination. And after the revenge will
= come the retaliation, the tanks, the demolitions, the closures.
It fe= els like the calm before the storm.<BR>
<BR>
</SPAN></FONT><FONT SIZE=3D"4"><FONT FACE=3D"Geneva"><SPAN
STYLE=3D'font-si= ze:14.0px'>www.starhawk.org <a
href=3D"http://www.starhawk.org/";><http:/=
/www.starhawk.org/></a> <BR>
&nb
sp;Sta= rhawk is an activist, organizer, and author of <I>Webs of
Power: Notes from= the Global Uprising</I> and eight other books on
feminism, politics and ea= rth-based spirituality. She teaches
Earth Activist Trainings that com= bine permaculture design and
activist skills, and works with the RANT train= er’s
collective, www.rantcollective.org <a href=3D"http://www.rantcol=
lective.org/"><http://www.rantcollective.org/></a> that offers
traini= ng and support for mobilizations around global justice and
peace issues. &n= bsp;<BR>
These updates will be posted on her website, www.starhawk.org <a
href=3D"ht=
tp://www.starhawk.org/"><http://www.starhawk.org/></a> , and on
the U= tne Reader website, www.Utne.com <a
href=3D"http://www.Utne.com/";><http:= //www.Utne.com/></a> .<BR>
<BR>
To get Starhawk’s periodic posts of her writings, email
</SPAN></FONT=
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STYLE=3D'font-size:18.0=
px'>Starhawk-subscribe-3hfIC0tI0F+k/GrYEfjPQg@xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx</SPAN></FONT></FONT><FONT
FACE=3D"T= imes"><FONT SIZE=3D"4"><SPAN STYLE=3D'font-size:14.0px'>
<a href=3D"mailto:=
Starhawk-subscribe-3hfIC0tI0F+k/GrYEfjPQg@xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx"><mailto:Starhawk-subscribe@li
sts.ri= seup.net></a> and put ‘subscribe’ in the
subject headi= ng. If you’re on that list and don’t want
any more of these wri= tings, email </SPAN></FONT><FONT
SIZE=3D"5"><SPAN STYLE=3D'font-size:18.0px=
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SIZE=3D"4"><SPAN= STYLE=3D'font-size:14.0px'> <a
href=3D"mailto:Starhawk-unsubscribe-VIBKFsLG95w@xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx=
iseup.net"><mailto:Starhawk-unsubscribe-3hfIC0tI0F+k/GrYEfjPQg@xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx></a>
a= nd put ‘unsubscribe’ in the subject heading.<BR>
</SPAN></FONT></FONT><FONT SIZE=3D"4"><SPAN
STYLE=3D'font-size:14.0px'><FON= T FACE=3D"Geneva"> <BR>
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STYLE=3D'font-size:12.0px'=
*** NOTICE: In accordance with Title 17 U.S.C. Section 107, this
material =
is distributed without profit to those who have expressed a prior
interest = in receiving the included information for research and
educational purposes= .***</SPAN></FONT><SPAN
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--B_3162888527_20294--
--
Brenna Bell, Staff Attorney
Klamath-Siskiyou Wildlands Center
917 SW Oak St., Ste 414
Portland, OR 97205
(503) 796-7811
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