Honestly the main goal at this moment is to do some kind of post before midnight so that I keep to my commitment of posting everyday.
Sometimes it’s important to make sure to display functioning at full capacity at all times, my reflection for the day..
I will also keep a record of my personal daily experiences of note and periodically post an update here, similar to some of my posts from a few years ago..
Today I will write a little on a topic which came up when I was studying something relating to teaching and AI.. I found that when I searched for the answer to three questions, related to language, Aboriginal people and cultural considerations. Even though my own answers to the questions would have included the word “racism”, and the official government education policies had the word “racism” all over them, some of them even in the title, the AI answer did not include the words “racism”, “racist”, “racial” and so on…
I suspected that the AI is set up to avoid the word. Maybe not in every possible question you could ask it, but to generally avoid it in many of the cases where a human would use the word.
I believe that the globalist language (as preferenced by big technology companies) is set on avoiding discussion of such things. At first they will pretend they are not discussing race in order to be inclusive, but it soon becomes evident that you are not allowed to discuss racISM either.
On an average day, dozens, even hundreds if I am in crowded places all day, of people will come and harass me racially on some level.
I could not get away from the problem if I tried, I can only argue with it and analyse it.
It is, also, pointless and serves no purpose to ignore it, or even to try if I could.
I should, more specifically, explain and discuss what types of people and what kinds of motivations they have.
But here I run into a problem which I put into the category of DARVO (Denial-Accusation Reversal of Victim-Offender). In this case this problem is, the very person who is the victim can be made to seem the aggressor simply by describing the situation as it actually is.
Even if I say, “ugly women are more likely to target me than beautiful women out of jealousy”, I can sound kind of unpleasant and arrogant, even if it is an accurate description. In that way, through DARVO the victim, me, can come across as an aggressor to some extent simply by giving details on the nature of my victimhood, even if it is an observable truth which can be substantiated with specific examples.
But more important I should and need to analyse what kinds of races harass me and what kind of racial motivation they have, and what larger patterns and threats it ties in with or highlights.
Here, I run into many more problems with DARVO.
Often I can’t write what I really want to write because of the feelings involved, and because I have been placed in a difficult position, and because I sometimes figure that others would have difficulty believing me.
A list of very controversial issues which I have to interact personally with, sums up quite a lot of things.
There is almost no problem and no issue in my life, certainly out of just about all things which have happened in the last 5 years or more, which is unaffected by race and racism. Although one of the most controversial points, there is no getting around the centrality of race and racism, to my life in general and in particular in direct connection to everything that has occurred in the last 5 years.
This problem is brought constantly to my life, whether I want it or not. There is not a single day that I am allowed to forget about it or to not engage with it in any way. All public instances of racism are recent and date back to only about 5 years, in other words it is not normal and not the initial starting point.
As I frequently make the point, the racism is migrant-lead, and most frequently has a upward-harrassment push not a downward-harassment one. This is an important point to make so that people have some idea of what I’m actually talking about.
Here, I refer directly to my own experience in Sydney in the last 5 years on a day-to-day basis.
However, if I consider global issues, historical issues, or my own background, race and racism again are of central importance.
I am reluctant to continue to write about what happened right now although I have written part of it.. The problem is that the story becomes increasingly unbelievable, and increasingly makes me seem like I could simply be nuts. The other issue is that a lot of the time people were speaking Spanish, a language which I can’t speak, and yet I insist I could make out enough of what they were saying that I knew exactly what they were saying much of the time.. I would have trouble getting people to believe me on all this, and so I feel a little reluctant to continue right now.
I have to start writing on a whole lot of topics. Consistently, ideally everyday. Everything is all related anyway, and I am falling behind in doing too many things..
When they lead me to the baggage scan for boarding, there are also a man and his son who are from Africa. I do not know which country, he may have said to the security he speaks English and French when they ask him what language he can speak. (I assume he can also speak an African language, but I mean that they may have asked him if he can speak Spanish and he replied no, English and French or something like that.) They are also getting deported and taken to the flight by security. When the security hand me to the flight staff, the captain (I am pretty sure from memory it is the captain not a regular attendant) says he will hold onto my passport and when we get to Spain (which is where the transfer is) we will go out to the border control together. He says this in a way where he is aware the Mexican airport security staff are there and saying it in an overly polite and helpful way to both me and them (maybe a bit strange given I’m being deported, right?) The Mexican security staff kind of treated me like I was difficult and like I thought I was special and from a rich country and treated me accordingly. Nobody says anything similar or gives any explanation I can see to the African man and his son although we’re all in the same situation as far as I understand.
Inside the plane I am just sitting among the normal passengers. I am quite near the back and in the middle row. The African man and his son are further toward the front and in the right hand row.
We get to Barcelona and when everyone goes to leave, a flight attendant comes and tells me, not me I am not going to the border control, to just go back and sit down. Maybe for a minute or two I’m still hoping that she means wait for someone to come get me, but then maybe someone else comes and tells me I’m staying on the flight and I am increasingly worried. Both a female attendant and a male attendant separately speak to me initially from what I remember.
I know that I should be at border control with everyone else and I am scared and worried. Still now, nobody knows where I am, a fact I realised in Mexico that the staff seemed to be aware of (as part of knowing too much information about me). I assume from this the staff of this plane are quite likely aware of this too. The next place the plane will land is Dubai. I know that I must not get taken there with nobody aware where I am. The plane is not entirely empty, instead the flight attendant staff are still around. Seated like me are the African man and his son. The African man is very tall and strong looking. The son is only about 10 or so. There is a fourth person who is on the opposite left row. He is presumably being deported too, he must have been already seated on the plane when us last three arrived, I figure. The man is Asian and has a bunch of cameras – I never see him up close and mostly only from the side back. He may be from Beijing or Hong Kong I decide, although I don’t really know.
A bunch of cleaners arrives to clean the plane. The cleaners are heavily jabbed. I wonder whether they are actually prisoners. Two or three look at me gravely, and one looks into my eyes with the saddest eyes like she is so sad for me. This is really worrying. She must know what is going on and know for sure this is bad. The reality of this sinks in some more. I know that nobody knows where I am even now, and I know I’m in danger of being disappeared from the normal world to who knows what nightmare or danger. The look in her eyes confirms what I know for certain. I start thinking about what to do. The back doorway is left open and the stairs where the cleaning staff came up from. Running down the stairs onto the tarmac seems one option. But how fast could I run and how far would I get? I am not confident about this idea. I stay put and continue to worry. Eventually the passengers start to come back in from the border control. (From the attendants’ energy I can see that what they are doing is against me and that they are trying to hide and oppress me by keeping me in the plane. But the reboarding of the other passengers, onto the plane which is clearly being prepared for takeoff again, also confirms there is finally no possibility that they were going to take me later or anything like that.) They are coming in from a door just at the back of the first or business class section, ahead of the economy class. I realise that the door to the main airport is open and that at the same time the other travellers are around to see this so it’s the best time.
I don’t remember exactly the details, but first I just walk normally up about one section of the plane. But probably the flight staff notice me and that I’m standing up and are moving in on me, so I can’t just quietly sneak out that door or anything, and I’m not aiming to necessarily do that because I feel like the other travelers are my best hope for help. So I start shouting about how it’s wrong that I haven’t been allowed through border security. I continue moving up through the plane as I do this, as I pass the African man, who I had been somewhat counting on siding with me, since he is large and could push his way out. But he hasn’t been listening, he has headphones on and is utterly oblivious. “Hey, get your Dad,” I say to the kid but he doesn’t understand what I mean. The airline staff are targeting towards me, so I stand on the chairs on either side of the aisle and start shouting about how the other passengers should stand up for us. I start to give a “Stand the fuck up” speech which I paraphrase from some things on Twitter. Ideally it would be like a plane in New York in a viral video. But I know from experience on that trip that that’s too optimistic but I’m hoping to at least resonate with a few people. One Asian guy who had only just walked back into the plane from border security initially looked like he would at least walk back out of the plane when he first heard me (to back away from a flight where there was trouble of any kind and perhaps for his own safety). But then when he saw nobody else reacting to me he looked like he would take a seat after all. One Indian woman in business/first class was frowning quite a bit and somewhat disconcerted looking. Other than those very small and slight reactions, everybody else completely opposed me and ignored me. 5 or 6 flight attendants surrounded me. One put some kind of sleeping potion in the bottle water and tried to make me drink it though I did not, but another said “not here” referring to not doing this in front of the other passengers. I was struggling to get out of the door, I was not far from it but I was too surrounded. They said to close the door, and closed it. I was still struggling against them. I felt a little stalemated, I was neither losing nor winning ground and the door was now closed. Just then, two airport police ran through another door near the front of the plane. “Hey, hey!” they shouted very loud and angrily and grabbed me and pulled me out of the plane. They walk me through the airport and I think I felt a bit calmer for a bit because I got my wish to not be on the plane. When they took me outside to the tarmac where their car was though, past the baggage handlers and little trolley cars, I felt panicked again about the thought of going off with them and fought to get away from them. After they placed me in the car I still kicked them and tried to get out. But I noticed that the one nearer to me did seem kind of reasonable nevertheless and I asked “How can you work for such evil?” He looked kind of hurt and I decided that I was right and that he knew that they were evil.
They took me to a police area at the airport which felt like the middle of nowhere and was further from where the main airport building were. There, they said I could call on their phone but it was more phone calls which rang out. A smug looking individual who was not just there with the rest of the normal police but seemed to specially come in, came with a camera and took photos of me from three angles. The angles were the same as those used at the concentration camps, and I was reminded of this topic again and aware of what I always noticed when I looked at those photos from concentration camps, that from these angles it was not only possible to identify a person individually, but more importantly, as was the purpose it was also easy to identify a person racially.
And they kept going on and on and on about North Korea as they had from the beginning. And I told them again and again I am not connected to them, and I really wondered for a while whether they thought I was some kind of spy or something. But they know that I am not really from North Korea the country, yet they say again and again that I was “born in North Korea.” And they say that I have alter egos.
And at one point, I said to a group of the police, “you would be treated very well if you were in Japan”, because I figured that the genes they were identifying in me came from there no matter what country they accused me of being from. And the one that I had earlier kicked and accused of working for evil, again looked guilty and struck in his conscience.
And later again, as they were taking me out of a cell, I said to him, “you know, you and me are probably more alike genetically than most people in the world are.” And again, he knew I was right and was fully aware of it even before I said it, and it pained him.
At some point probably late in the night as far as I remember- they’d been telling me the translator would be arriving and she eventually did arrive. She was a woman in a cardigan who did not come across to me like she was a real translator. Many of the words they said, they seemed to say in inverted commas, with a sort of a hard removed emphasis on them, like “translator”. Like they could not interact with the real professional organisations that had the career translators in them so they had to get their own internal one from somewhere, was the impression I got. I felt there were also many things about their police organisation which seemed like a fake version. The “translator” told me that I would be seeing a “judge” tomorrow. What came to mind was a fake courtroom in the middle of what I imagined to be wide empty spaces surrounding the airport.
During the next day they came to get me to first take me to the doctors. The doctors were a Spanish man and a large African man. They had from the beginning a lot of respect for me. It is the feeling where they have heard something about me that makes them see me in a positive light even before meeting me. The Black doctor looks at me and all my bruises up and down my arms and legs, and differentiates between the newer ones from fighting the plane staff and police, and the older ones (which had mostly come from being grabbed multiple times by the Mexican airport security). And he says to me these bruises are older, what are they from? And I address an older bruise from falling with the suitcase which is the exception from the rest. But the doctor knows that by addressing the exception I’m also saying that’s the only bruise from a falling accident, and I do not know how to otherwise answer the question and also that nearly all the bruises are from earlier conflict (which he seems to interpret as being from something worse than it actually was). And he says, “You’re a good girl, aren’t you” like he knew it was good that I fought to get away. The doctors ask me if I want a shot which they do not explain other than saying that it’s not The vax. (I don’t know what the shot was, but it was like they had to or were supposed to ask me the question like it was part of the procedure. Anyway I say no to it.) And when they say I can go, again with a tangible deep respect and a gentle and serious air they watch me leave.
The airport police then take me to a police station which feels slightly more ‘real’ and this time is situated outside the airport. There, there are a number of small cells, about five of them, which are all next to each other with thick bars facing out side by side onto a small corridor which joins the entrance and reception section of this building with an internal section. Of these 5 or 6 cells, I am in the middle one, with maybe two on my left closer to the entranceway, and two or three on my right in the deeper part of the building. I am there for a very long time, many hours, far longer than any of the other people kept there. So during the duration of the time I’m there, I see or hear quite a few of the other people maybe 12 or 15 or so of them, the ones in the deeper cells are led by the one I’m in when they are taken there and taken away. The majority of them are women. Very disturbingly, a large number of them (maybe even nearly all) have just been Vaxed before being taken here. It causes a horrible dry retching reaction initially, and at least one of them vomits. I can hear and understand enough of the conversation around me to understand that this is due to the vax. I am unsure who they are and why they are here. Even though this is a police station, I do not get the feeling that many (or probably even any) of them have been committing crime or anything like that. For one thing, as I said most are women. I have a feeling most of them (including most of what men were there) had only breached some kind of immigration requirement or something like that. It is also possible that they had arrived with everything in order but the only thing they were missing was a vaccine, and they were told they had to be made to have one before entering. I am only speculating, I do not know why they were there. I did not see anyone there that seemed like a typical airport troublemaker in Spain, like a drunken English man on the way to Ibiza or Tenerife for example.
Hours passed and finally I was the only person left out of the people in the cells. The two airport police who had taken me to the police station were still there too waiting around. Finally I was taken to the back area. The back area was a normal office looking environment, which appeared to be quite spacious and nice. I was told by someone there that I will be charged with injuring a police officer, and that I accept the charge and a small fine and then I can go. I felt I did not have a lot of options so I said yes. There was a different translator who seemed more like a real translator than the first one. I forget much about him but as far as I remember he was English and said he had been to Australia at some point, I did not trust him much. They soon released me, and told me I have to go straight to the subway to get the train to the airport and then buy a plane ticket from there.
(I have left out a lot of things here to just stick to a basic description of some things.)
In February 2022, I finally made a sudden decision to leave the lockdowns. I was able to leave without proof of vaccination, which I had found out on some info online a few months before. I’d decided to go a few days ago, it was my third day in a row at the airport and second buying a ticket before I finally left. I could say more on this decision and how I came to it, but anyway I really felt by that point it was the best thing to do. On the day I felt just lucky that a lady with a whole stack of suitcases piled up above her head was near me. She blocked the view from the flight attendant checking proof of vax status. I used the lady being in the way as an opportunity to cut in line so that I bypassed that flight attendant.
Many things were not right about the flight and everything else. Also, I’d made a promise to myself years ago to never go to Dubai for any reason. Promises to myself are important and I should have remembered to keep them. The stopover was in Dubai and there was another stop at Spain but the one in Spain was one where they just had everyone get out of the aircraft, go through border security, then get back on the same aircraft.
I had almost no plan, and I’d told nobody that I was going. I’d been unsure whether I would even be able to leave. I did have a working visa to Canada, which I’d applied for a couple of years before for mostly unrelated reasons, but they were no longer even allowing entry to unvaxed people. I had a ticket to Mexico, which I had chosen based on its lax entry restrictions, and no other real plan.
When I arrived there, I found that they were unwilling to let me enter with no return ticket, itinerary or hotel booking. It was a fairly standard decision to be expected in a time when few people were traveling. It was my own fault for not planning better and at least having an onward ticket.
But the whole time, many things were not right. And it was increasingly concerning to me that nobody knew where I was. My phone did not have roaming or anything enabled on it, and although I should have at least used the wifi during stopover to contact people I hadn’t done so.
When they went to put me on the return flight to be deported, I had a strong sense like I shouldn’t go and I threw myself on the ground and shouted and screamed. This meant that I ended up on a return flight a day later than the one that they were originally were going to put me on, probably the same flight at the same time the next day. A number of things happened, but in most ways the Mexican airport experience was not too far outside of what you would kind of expect or predict when you are getting deported. However even there, there were some really worrying things that happened. I was in the Mexican airport less than about 36 hours.
I was put in this room just by the border control area, which had a glass wall and glass doors, so you could see in and out. Inside, there were a number of women, who seemed oddly and questionably at home in this room given it must be a totally temporary sort of space for emergency situations. I had a sense they all seemed to be ex prostituted women. They all said they are from Colombia although I don’t truly know if they were really from Colombia. They probably had not met before that day. It was like their journey was long and this was just one day out of many similar days. Whereas I would have expected most people in that room to be experiencing a one-off situation but this did not seem the case. There were two little girls in the room. They were not accompanied by anybody, nor did they seem to be sisters. Normally this would be unusual and concerning, but it was as if it was not strange to the people there. One of the little girls had something drawn on her face. It was like markings making her look like a bunny or kitten, and something about the way it was drawn seemed not right and perverse. At first they were not sitting near me, but later the women and the girls were all sitting closer at the seats by me and the women were talking to me and trying to ask a few questions and we were trying to figure out what each other was saying although they could mainly only speak Spanish. Then the women started encouraging the girls to ask me how to say different words in English and around this time, I got clearer look at this child’s face. The marking was not made by a thin pen as I’d assumed, but scratched into her face. My eyes filled with tears and I looked away and wiped them many times as I tried to talk to them and smile. Nobody else seemed to acknowledge any problem. The markings were very shallow and new. Thankfully they were not permanent but on the very outside layer of skin, and would not scar and would heal in a couple of days. But because the markings would not last long, they also had been not on her face for more than a couple of days. What did that mean, that she had been taken for somewhere terrible just a day or two before, but now was here alone with no apparent carer?
I can’t add all I saw and heard right now as this will get too long. The other horrifying thing was that the security staff just knew way too much information about me (which you would not expect them to be able to get), as well as believing some things that weren’t true. But eventually in the early morning I made an attempt to get the attention of the people who had arrived in the next day’s flights as I was getting really scared and worried and wanted to get away or contact someone. The security people grabbed me but I kept arguing and they let me make a number of calls to numbers I had saved in my mobile, using their phone, but all the calls rang out. They JABBED me with something (not ‘The vax’ but something to make me fall asleep) because they got tired of dealing with me, and they took me to another room which was bare and depressing and had a heavy soundproof door. But they had arranged for me to go on the flight back, the same flight I had refused to go on the day before.
The security people of the Mexican airport varied in their personality and attitude towards me but at least some of them seemed like they were mostly normal people. Whatever was happening, the problems and the agenda didn’t originate in Mexico. Mexican people seemed relatively relaxed and normal, even many of the airport security staff came across that way.
