Missy Thompson

MY STORIES:

 

ABOUT ME:

I am a senior at the University of Utah studying mass communication with an emphasis in news editorial. I have been a staff writer at the Tooele (Utah) Transcript Bulletin since 2006 where I write movie reviews and arts and entertainment articles. I am a member of the Utah Film Critics Society based out of Salt Lake City. In January 2007 — and in 2008 — I was an accredited member of the press for the Sundance Film Festival. Intermediate reporting has forced me to step away from the entertainment world and focus on an underrepresented community. After graduation in December 2008, I plan to continue my journalism career, eventually writing for an arts and entertainment magazine.

Salt Lake City is fighting human trafficking

by BRAD TAGGART

Human trafficking usually starts with despair and a desire for something better and often ends in tragedy. Human trafficking is the act of illegally transporting victims for slavery from one country to another. It has become increasingly common around the world.

Human trafficking is a multi-billion-dollar industry that relies on hopelessness and unawareness as a means of luring individuals and families to be tricked and sold into slavery. Deborah Bulkeley, a reporter with the Deseret News who has written several articles on human trafficking in Utah, said the majority of victims are women who are usually forced into prostitution.

“These women work just as any other prostitute would but do not receive any compensation for what they do, but rather get abused and suffer for their work,” Bulkeley said.

It is estimated that more than 12 million people are victims of human trafficking; 80 percent are female and 50 percent are under the age of 18, according to the End Human Trafficking Web site. Between 600,000 and 800,000 victims are trafficked across international borders every year and the numbers continue to increase.

Utah’s legislature is now stepping up to the challenge of combating human trafficking locally as well as nationally.

In 2006, The U.S. Department of Justice announced that Salt Lake City would receive $450,000 in grants to supplement a new human trafficking task force. The main priority is the proper training of law enforcement.

“One of the big needs is training of basically everyone from law enforcement to first responders to anyone who could be in a position to identify a case of human trafficking,” said Melodie Rydalch, public information officer for the Utah office of the U.S. Attorney. “We are convinced there are cases out there. We just need to look closer and ask more questions.”

Efforts to identify and prosecute human traffickers are being stepped up. The 79 national convictions involving human trafficking in fiscal year 2006 were more than double the convictions the previous year. Utah had two of those convictions.

With the success comes the knowledge that more needs to be done.

A few different organizations focus on the victims of human trafficking. The International Rescue Committee, headquartered in New York City, has a refugee resettlement office in Salt Lake City

Victims of human trafficking usually arrive at the IRC after they have been found, rescued and stabalized. “Most of our work is to stabilize the refugee until the persecution has stopped and then get them resettled into the country,” said Patrick Poulin, resettlement director for the IRC in Salt Lake.

“It’s important to establish protocols for helping victims once they’re rescued,” Rydalch said.

A second organization is the Utah Health and Human Rights Project. The agency “promotes the health, dignity, and self-sufficiency of refugees, asylees, and immigrants who have endured severe human rights abuses, including torture, war-related trauma, and human trafficking,” according to the UHHP Web site.

Catholic Community Services of Utah is another support group for refugees. CCS “provides comprehensive resettlement services to refugees from various regions of the world,” according to its Web site.

All agencies need volunteers and donations. IRC Salt Lake City, for example, is seeking warm winter clothing, comforters, gift cards to local grocery stores and other items. The office also holds orientation sessions for individuals interested in volunteering.

 “Money is a powerful tool,” Poulin said. “With money we can actually support these victims and give them food and shelter.”

Adapting to a new home in Salt Lake City

by BRAD TAGGART

Have you ever been in an airport and seen a person or family holding a small white bag that says IOM in blue writing? Unless you know exactly what you are looking for, these bags may seem pretty common. However, the bags tell a surprising story that is both incredible and often very sad.

The International Organization for Migration gives these bags to refugees to carry all of their belongings. The small bag, no bigger then a grocery sack, has plenty of room for this task.

Refugees, whether alone or as a family, come from all over the world. Some countries include Ethiopia, Somalia, Burma, Vietnam, Cuba, Bhutan, Iran and Iraq. Many have experienced war, poverty or other hardships that make it necessary to begin a new life far from home. Since January 2008, a total of 388 refugees have been resettled in Utah. Another 75 to 100 are expected to arrive by the end of 2008, said Patrick Poulin, resettlement director for the International Rescue Committee in Salt Lake City.

“When I arrived here in the States there was a shock that went through my body,” said Regina Barbouza, 42, a refugee from Brazil. “I was scared and felt alone but was happy to be safe.”

Some people arrive not knowing what to expect. Many times the families have lived in refugee camps all of their lives. Barbouza and her three children, David, 11, Angelina, 9, and Jose, 6, lived in a small camp before being resettled in the US. They had no running water. Wooden walls provided some shelter from the elements; the floor was dirt. Barbouza declined to comment on the actual reason for fleeing Brazil, but said if she and her family had stayed, she would most likely not be alive today.

Gerald Brown, director of the Refugee Services Office in Salt Lake City, oversees the resettlement process for people who are arriving here for the first time. Many of them are just “fighting for their existence,” Brown said, regarding their state of life.

Brown started working with refugees in Cairo, Egypt. He said he found his “true calling” during the two years he spent there. “It was so crowded [in Cairo] people lived in graveyards. There, I learned the world was not fair,” Brown said. After serving the people of Egypt from 1976 to 1978, he decided he had found his path and began to focus on helping those who could not help themselves.

After a stint in Taichung, Taiwan, teaching English and studying Mandarin, Brown resettled in the US. From 1981 until he accepted his current position with the Department of Workforce Services in May 2008, Brown held a variety of jobs that allowed him to work with Bosnian, Iraqi, Haitian and Cuban refugees.

Six months into his new job, Brown has discovered that helping can be challenging. “With the economy crisis as it is, it has been very difficult to get the support we need,” he said. “We need money. Money for gatherings, clothes, beds, funerals, activities and any other basic needs.”

Brown described a scene of a new refugee family from Karen that is in need of such support. “As you walk in the apartment door of a Karen family, for example, you see shoes left at the door,” he said. “After you take off your shoes they bring the only chair they have for you to sit on. They offer watermelon and bring letters for you to read. Bills, school letters and others all in English.”

The Refugee Services Office helps people understand correspondence, enroll their children in school, find jobs and locate suitable housing.

“If you want support from someone, take that person to visit the refugees in their new home,” Brown said. “Once you see these people and get to know them you will have no problem getting the support you need.” 

The International Organization for Migration continues to safely bring refugees into the country and organizations like the International Rescue Committee and Refugee Services Office help once they arrive in the United States. These organizations persist in the ongoing battle of resettling refugees like Regina Barbouza and her family who need a safe haven and a new start.

Campus group encourages Native Americans, Hispanics in science

by LANA GROVES

Despite efforts to encourage minority students to pursue degrees in the sciences, such as chemistry, physics or biology degrees, enrollment numbers at the University of Utah are low.

Native American and Hispanic students comprise less than half a percent of all 21,566 undergraduate students from fall 2008, according to enrollment records from the Office of Budget and Institutional Analysis. The majority are enrolled in the College of Humanities or Nursing. Only 6 percent are enrollment in the College of Science.

“Nationally, one of the fields of study under-represented is sciences,” said Octavio Villalpando, associate vice president for the Office of Diversity at the U “We want to make sure the University of Utah can attract many more students of color to the programs, even by bringing students from across the country.”

Villalpando helped organize a national conference for the Society for the Advancement of Chicanos and Native Americans in Science (SACNAS) in October 2008 in Salt Lake City, Utah. The conference brought students interested in science degrees from all around the world to the U.

The Utah student chapter for SACNAS doesn’t think the U is doing enough to encourage students.

Doug Rodriguez, a physics graduate student and secretary of the Utah chapter, said the low enrollment numbers are frustrating but not surprising.

“Science has always had low interest, but even when students sign up for a degree they often drop out,” Rodriguez said.

Rodriguez and SACNAS Utah Chapter President Mauricio Rascon have plans to improve those numbers.

By December, the chapter will begin to visit elementary, junior and high schools in the Salt Lake Valley to talk to students and encourage them to continue to higher education and major in science-related degrees.

“A lot of students ask: What am I going to do with a physics degree?” Rascon said.  “Most people think they can just teach. They don’t know about all the opportunities available for medical physics or other career paths.”

Rodriguez said the need is especially great among Native American students. According to the Office of Budget and Institutional Analysis 2008 enrollment records, of the 150 Native American students enrolled at the University of Utah, only 12 are in the College of Science.

To combat these low numbers, College of Science Dean Pierre Sokolsky recently created a committee to help retain minority students to study biology, chemistry and physics degrees.

Rodriquez said that for every science degree, about 70 percent of all students listed as caucasian who enroll complete their degree, but only 10 percent of all Native American and Hispanic student graduates with a science degree.

“We’re going to hold mentoring sessions and have juniors, seniors and graduate students influence the newer freshmen [and] sophomores, and hopefully convince them to go into graduate school and bump these numbers up,” Rodriguez said.

The older students can also help them with difficult classes and subjects, he said.

Rascon said he remembers the effort it took to work through difficult classes, especially upper-level math classes. He said there were times he considered switching majors.

“When you go into the sciences, it’s like learning a whole new language,” Rascon said. “And if you don’t schedule your classes right, you can get extremely overwhelmed.”

Moises Terrazas, a former president of the student group, said teachers make a big difference in helping a student stay motivated.

“The people that gave me the motivation to continue was my family and good mentors in the science department,” he said.

Villalpando said the U is an excellent place for students of color to study sciences. He said many diverse students are already interested in studying with Mario Capecchi, who won the 2007 Nobel Prize for Medicine and Physiology.

“Capecchi is a great example of a student facing adversity and trial, and making revolutionary discoveries in science,” Villalpando said.

Rodriguez said some students struggle to pay for school and become discouraged.

The Utah SACNAS chapter tries to combat financial problems by offering about 10 scholarships every year to high schools students who will study at the U. The scholarships range from full tuition to half tuition for a year.

Rodriguez said many students don’t know that graduate schools often offer to pay students’ tuition.

Yet, the Utah SACNAS chapter has made strides over the past few years to encourage Native American and Hispanic students at the U to enroll in the College of Science and involve themselves in activities on campus.

Derek Lokni, a chemistry student and the U who is Navajo, said he joined SACNAS to meet other students and take part in activities on campus. He said more students should be interested in the group, but many don’t know it exists.

“Members of the (chapter) have helped me stay in chemistry,” Lokni said. “And it’s a lot of fun. We talk about some of the goals we have after graduation and what we like about chemistry, physics, biology or anything else. It’s there for you.”

Navajo Hogan serves traditional foods

by JESSICA DUNN

Squanto, of the Wampanoag tribe, helped the starving pilgrims of the Plymouth Colony 387 years ago. He lived with them and taught them how to fish and plant corn and other local vegetables.

The American Indians originally cultivated about 60 percent of the foods we eat today, said Forrest S. Cuch, executive director of the Utah Division of Indian Affairs. Those foods include corn, potatoes, tomatoes, chocolates and coffee beans.

While mainstream America has taken these native foods and created new recipes with them, the Navajo Hogan, a Salt Lake City restaurant, keeps Native American food traditions alive with their fry bread and Navajo taco.

The concrete building at 447 E 3300 South looks plain at first glance, with only a big yellow and red sign adorning its gray walls. The inside has a few simple, metal tables and chairs and a long counter in front of the open kitchen. The walls are decorated with Native American murals, strings of dried chili peppers, tribal maps, painted animal hides and various weaponry and trinkets.

Bill and Marcie Espinoza, originally from New Mexico, opened the Navajo Hogan in 1989. The building first housed the Espinozas’ arcade for the teenagers attending nearby Granite High School. One night, though, as Marcie was making dinner, Bill had the idea to sell the traditional Navajo taco that his wife made. He wanted everyone to have to opportunity to enjoy it. She refused at first because she had a full-time job, but after some persuasion from Bill she was convinced.

The restaurant’s main menu item is the Navajo taco. The traditional is the most popular, made with fresh fry bread topped with homemade chili beans, cheddar cheese, chopped lettuce, tomatoes and onions. The Navajo Hogan offers about 10 other variations as well, including vegetarian, chili cheese, blue corn and chicken.

Most North American tribes were never taught how to make bread but they experimented and learned to prepare fry bread, Cuch said in an e-mail. After surrendering to the U.S. Cavalry, Native Americans were issued rations of “salted pork or bacon, refined flour, salt, sugar, and lard,” Cuch said. They had to use the white settlers’ food to create the bread.

“The Indians mixed the flour with water and salt and made a dough,” Cuch said. “With the grease from the bacon or lard, they place the dough in the grease and created grease/fry bread.”

The Navajo Hogan also makes a sweet fry bread with cinnamon and sugar.
Mutton stew is also a staple of the Navajo tradition, Cuch said. The Navajo Hogan makes a limited amount of mutton stew with vegetables every Saturday and is served on a first come first serve basis.

Regulars come in every Saturday for the stew. Some will even call in advance to reserve their bowl, Bill said.

Mutton stew comes from the Navajo tradition of herding sheep. Their eating habits are different from other tribes, even within Utah. The Utes, the Native American tribe that Utah is named for, don’t have any well-known food traditions, Cuch said.

The food diversity stems from the Utes’ nomadic background as opposed to the Navajo’s early settling. Mormon pioneers eventually forced the Utes to change their ways. The move to a reservation restricted their eating habits and food sources.

“[The Utes used to] eat more wild game, including deer, elk, buffalo, antelope [and] trout,” Cuch said. “They learned to plant and eat corn from the Hopi.”

Though the Utes’ eating habits have changed from their traditional ways, Utahns still have the opportunity to try the Navajo taco and mutton stew at the Navajo Hogan.

Bill smiles and greets a pair of his regular customers and writes down their order from memory. He cooks their Navajo tacos according to each of their specifications, even cutting one into quarters.

People from all around the world have come to eat at the Navajo Hogan, especially during the 2002 Winter Olympics. There have been customers from New York, Alaska, Japan and Australia, Bill said.

Similar to Squanto, Bill is teaching and spreading the Native American ways and knowledge, all while feeding new people traditional Navajo foods.

Cal Nez finds success

by JESSICA DUNN

He dropped her off, watching as she bravely walked away. He couldn’t bear to leave, so he waited outside all day, his anxiety building. Would she be coming back to him?

Finally, after Courtney’s first day of kindergarten, Cal Nez held his oldest daughter in his arms once again. She was completely fine. Nothing had happened, and she had loved it.

He wished he had been as easygoing and happy about school as his children, Courtney, Chelsey and Colby, are.

As a child, Nez didn’t know the comfort of being with his family during the school year. He spent many of those years away from his home in Tocito, N.M. At 6 years old, he left for the Bureau of Indian Affairs Boarding School in nearby Sanostee, where he learned to speak English for the first time. He describes the boarding school as a “demon of the past” and a negative and “horrible experience” for him. The children there had to wake up early, stand at attention and were allowed little time to play. It “took away the beauty of childhood,” he said.

It was during this time, though, that Nez discovered his artistic talent. He made his first drawing, a picture of Abraham Lincoln chopping the cherry tree, at boarding school. He had always been an artist, and he knew he was good at duplicating images. But the teacher praised him for his illustration of Abe and gave him a one-dollar bill.

Nez, 50, was born in the Navajo Nation, Tachiinii Clan for the Tanaszanii Clan. His grandparents, Bitonie and Mary B. Nez, raised him.

Nez spent his junior high school years herding sheep and going to public school. Before high school, he learned about the Indian Student Placement Program, where Native American students were placed in Latter-day Saint homes during the school year. It was this exchange that brought him to Utah.

He was reluctant to leave his familiar surroundings, but his grandma encouraged the idea and told him that she had nothing for him in Tocito. He would be better off by going away.

In tears, he left, saying that he would always remember who he was. He promised to return, and he was determined to make it, no matter the trials.

In Salt Lake City, he studied at South High School for three years. He was successful at everything he tried. He received academic honors and was a member of the wrestling team and newspaper staff. He also won the Sterling Scholar Award for the visual arts, proving his artistic talents.

Nez wanted to be a painter or an architect while growing up, until he discovered commercial art. He worked for several graphic design firms, including Ted Nagata Graphic Design, Inc. and Smith and Clarkson Design.

“When he worked for me, his work ethic was unparalleled,” said Larry Clarkson through an e-mail correspondence. “I believe a great deal of his current work philosophy is a result of working with me, as well as another successful designer, Ted Nagata, early in his career.”

Nez’s art was getting recognition and winning awards, so he decided to work for himself. He quit his job, even though his wife, Yolanda, was pregnant.

“I think one of the key parts of starting your own business is insanity,” said Nez.

Nez packed up his portfolio of designs and went to talk to Peter MacDonald, the former Navajo Nation chairman, and his business was born.

Nez started Cal Nez Design, a graphic design and advertising company in Salt Lake City, Utah, 20 years ago. He takes on a variety of projects, and he gets involved, taking time with each of his designs. Nez likes to focus on the message and target audience for each. He brings every piece of his designs together to create the best communication possible, and he strives to keep the Navajo traditions alive through his art.

Cal Nez Design is now one of the oldest companies in the United States owned by a Native American. And Nez was even featured on the cover of Utah Business magazine in October of 2005.

With all his success, Nez has not forgot his people, traditions or where he came from. He visits Tocito, but things are not the same as they used to be. Sheep corral fences have rotted. A roof of a friend’s house has caved in. And there is not a sheep in sight.

But when he returns, he still goes to the top of a mountain nearby that he went to as a child. Today, though, he sits up there with a laptop in his hands and many successes to his name.

Utah Navajo strings colorful beads, warm traditions

by KATHRYN JONES

  • See photos of Weasel Tail and his work by clicking his name, below. (Slideshow best viewed in full-screen mode.)

When he was a kid, Harold Garcia — better known as “Weasel Tail,” was never caught, not even once, with his hand in the cookie jar. He says he “kept watch” at the local store while his friends filled their pockets. When they got caught, his pockets remained empty and he was able to weasel his way out of the bad situation.

“Sure, I earned [my name] in the wrong way,” he says, “but it was [originally] given to me by my great-great grandfather. And that’s the most important thing.”

The name stuck.

Today, Weasel works in beadwork at the Native American Trading Post located at 3971 South Redwood Road in West Valley City. The business is owned by Dru and Leslie Drury, who have been friends with Weasel for 10 years.

In 2004, after 21 years in business, the store was moved to a more visible location, Leslie says. Weasel Tail has been working at the new location since then. She describes him with a sense of humor and admits that nobody knows how to bead like he does.

A Navajo and Tewa Pueblo American, Weasel says his bead skills began in pre-school where he strung “Froot Loops, Cheerios and little pieces of paper with holes in it.” Later, he graduated to moccasins as he watched his grandmother, Maria Martinez, assemble them.

“I already had my color co-ordination down,” he says. “Other people would put random colors together, me, I already had my colors separated because I saw my grandmother do the same thing.”

As Weasel grew, so did his craft.

“When I was in school, I’d beadwork the pens,” he says. “By the time that first week of school [was over] each one of my teachers in each one of my classes got a pen.”
The price of each?

Fifteen dollars.

Weasel Tail grew up in Utah, but his home life began in Ohkay Owingeh, a pueblo in New Mexico. Today, he lives in Salt Lake City and spends time in the winter putting together beaded purses, gloves, leggings for men and women, dresses, cradleboards, pipe bags and umbilical cord bags for those who seek out his work and those who sometimes stumble upon it.

“My sister introduced me to Weasel,” says Ardis Bryant, a frequent customer who makes her own jewelry. She not only purchases the mixings for her own creative endeavors; beads, string, and the like, Bryant says she swears by the crystals used in beadwork found at the trading post; they are unlike any she has found elsewhere.

“[Customers] find out there’s a lot more than teepees,” Weasel says. He speaks about the two most popular purchases at the trading post: baby moccasins and umbilical cord bags.

For those who are unfamiliar with the second purchase: The umbilical cord is saved for a reason, Weasel Tail says. The outward representation of what joined mother and child, yet connects mother and child spiritually in life and in death.

Tradition says that the cord is alive, Weasel says. “You will be taken care of because of that little cord.”

His 10 sisters have forbidden him to make cradleboards, however.

They get pregnant.

“So, what are you doing, bewitching us?” they tell him. “We’re all going to get a cradleboard and make it at your house.”

Weasel Tail admits he just likes to make them, and if he can’t do the job for his sisters, there are many customers who will appreciate them. “I’ve got the material,” he says. “Maybe someone else will want the cradleboard.” According to tradition, a cradleboard is not made unless a baby is expected.

Still, many other projects are ready for creation. Weasel’s mirror bag of an elk on a mountain is among his favorites.

“They had lots of different bags in [the 1800s],” he explains. Some were made to hold tools inside a teepee; others held porcupine quills, tobacco or umbilical cords.

When hand mirrors arrived with the trappers, Indians found a new use for the bags, Weasel says. They needed a way to protect the mirrors from getting broken so a new bag was born.

After that, Indian tribes wore mirrors on their clothing, Weasel says. Mirrors reversed bad thoughts. If someone was thinking or saying something negative it would naturally reflect back on them.

Negativity hasn’t always deflected from Weasel and his craft, however.

Even Weasel admits, “Don’t count your chickens before they’re hatched because something may not turn out the way you want it to, or somebody may fall through.”

He is speaking of business. Items he must re-bead because threads have loosened, orders that are made and not picked up; more expensive items that haven’t been purchased yet. Of the last he says, “I’ve learned not to rely on such. Some things I know will sell.”

But even if they don’t, Weasel is holding his head high.

“I see something here and know it will come to life,” he says, pointing to his head. “Whatever I see, whatever I put into it … it’s what I see up here. It’s my creation. Nobody’s going to take that from me.”

Burmese refugee liking life in America

by BRETT PERFILI

Every year immigrants and refugees come to the United States seeking change, looking for opportunity and trying to discover some success in their new country. And as most Americans wake up on weekdays and head to work to make a living, Sebastian Palsuk, a Burmese refugee, is right there with them doing the same.

Palsuk, 31, has been living in Salt Lake City since he arrived from Malaysia in 2007. He is currently working for the LDS church at the Humanitarian Center on 1665 S. Bennett Way. He works in the production area, where he sifts through carts full of clothes sent from all over the country. He sorts the clothes, separating items that are in better shape from those that are more worn. The clothes are then moved to be sold at Deseret Industries stores located around the country.

He enjoys his job and everything about the United States.

“Whatever I want to do I can. Policy is very good for me,” Palsuk said. “If I want to work I can.”

Palsuk left behind a world of frustration where he was beaten and jailed. He once lived in a place where every move he made was monitored. Palsuk was told what he could and could not do. Here in the United States his world of aggravation has morphed into a land of freedom.

However, this was not always the case. He was a teacher at a primary religious school in a Christian village in Burma during the 1990s. One day the Burmese military showed up at the school and told Palsuk that he needed to allow Buddhists in his school. Palsuk did not like the idea, because he does not agree with Buddhism and did not want students of that religion attending his school. He was beaten for being uncooperative. Members of the military struck him in the head and pulled him out of the school. He was then arrested and sent to jail for four months in Burma.

Palsuk said that is something he will never forget, but wishes he could.

After he was released from jail things did not get any easier. His father advised him to move to Malaysia. There he was arrested again for not having a passport. He was sent to jail for a year.

Palsuk said the prisoners were always sweaty from the heat and dizzy due to the lack of food.

At night, when guards and prison workers could not see them, a group of Christians would gather and secretly pray and worship. The jail tolerated no religion of any kind, and if caught the prisoners were punished more.

“Every day we make worship and devotion,” Palsuk said.

When he was released from the Malaysian prison he learned he was not allowed to return to Burma, unless he wanted to go back to jail there.

So, he applied to get into the United States as a refugee. He was eventually granted permission to make the journey to America.

When he arrived in 2007, he worked with the International Rescue Committee in Salt Lake City to get started on the right foot. In December of 2007 he joined the IRC as an interpreter for incoming Burmese refugees. He found this helped him to learn to speak English more fluently. The IRC is an organization that helps the resettlement process for refugees by arranging places to stay, resources and providing finances.

The first job Palsuk landed was working for a Crystal Inn in Salt Lake City as a housekeeper. However, he was not learning about America and lacked communication with Americans, so he decided to quit and try to find a job where more interaction with people existed. Learning to speak English is Palsuk’s top priority.

His current job at the Humanitarian Center is ideal.

“I get more experience and also know more English,” Palsuk said.

Bart Hill, the center’s development manager, enjoys working with Burmese refugees.

“They are hard working,” Hill said. “They want to improve their situation. They have as good or better work ethic than others.”

Palsuk is doing just that.

He has his high school diploma, and is taking English classes at night through the Humanitarian Center. He plans to attend Salt Lake Community College. He said he wants to be a businessman, but could not find the words to explain exactly what kind.

His job at the Humanitarian Center is temporary; Palsuk is allowed to work there for only one year. But, he knows that what he has learned working there the past seven months will help him when he is forced to seek other employment. The LDS church will assist him with his job search when the time comes.

When he is away from his busy day sifting through used clothes or learning English, he is at his North Salt Lake apartment hanging out with his two Burmese roommates, Mangcung and Zawzawnaing. He likes to gather with them and others and play soccer in the park on Saturdays. He also keeps himself occupied during his free time by working on the Toyota that he was able to obtain through a bank loan.

This is also something Palsuk has found to be a privilege in the United States.

“I want to buy a car, I can,” Palsuk said. “Everyone in my country can’t buy a car. Whoever is working they can buy a car.”

His favorite aspect of this country, though, is the people. He has found Utahns to be very kind and helpful.

“People are good for me,” he said. “When I need help they help me. In my country no way. If you got into trouble they didn’t help.”

And for the people who know Palsuk, the feeling is mutual.

Elease Thompson, Palsuk’s job coach at the Humanitarian Center, loves working with him.

“He is one of the kindest men I have ever met,” Thompson said, making Palsuk blush. “I don’t know why some girl doesn’t snatch him up. He is so willing to help a woman.”

Palsuk’s goal is to become a U.S. citizen in five years.

Although Palsuk has bad memories of Burma and Malaysia, he is on a path to create good memories in his new country.

Niños on skis

by ERIK DAENITZ

Twelve years ago the Rev. Bob Bussen, pastor of Saint Mary’s of the Assumption Parish in Park City, Utah, saw a divide in the community.

“I noticed that we had challenges in Park City embracing our diversity,” Bussen said. “I challenged the city that we needed to find ways to build bridges, noticing that I needed to do that as well.”

The result of Bussen’s challenge was the Niños on Skis program, which he envisioned as a way for Hispanic and non-Hispanic families and children to come together while having fun skiing.

The success of the program is due in part to the efforts of sponsor families who agree to ski with children who otherwise might not be able to enjoy the slopes of Park City.

In addition, Park City Mountain Resort, Aloha Ski and Snowboard Rental, and St. Mary’s provide equipment and services that make skiing free for children who participate.

Normally, a youth day ticket at the resort costs $50 while passes for Utah students between ages seven to 17 range from $175 to $225. However, the resort’s involvement with the Niños program lifts this burden.

“Park City Mountain Resort has just been fabulous because they give all our kids free passes and make it possible to do everything,” Bussen said. “Aloha we just kind of got to know and they got involved, too. St. Mary’s provides clothes through the St. Lawrence thrift store in Heber City.”

However, these opportunities did not always exist, and it has taken some effort to get the program where it is today.

“We live in this world-class resort and have many Hispanic families here,” said Ernest Oriente, the Niños on Skis program director. “Many of them were going back and forth to work or school every day looking up at these amazing mountains but never getting to experience them.”

Oriente became involved in the program 10 years ago after reading about it in a church bulletin. With Puerto Rican heritage on his mother’s side of his family, Oriente identifies with diversity and the need to extend opportunities to all.

“We must remember that we are a nation of immigrants,” Oriente said. “We are a melting pot of cultures.”

Starting out with eight children, the Niños program has consistently grown under Oriente’s direction. This year 51 boys and girls participated.

“Ernest and Father Bob collaborated on the program,” said Garrett Glenn, a Park City High School student who volunteers with the program. “Ernest is the director and does a lot of the work, and Father Bob is there to provide support.”

Niños on Skis enables children with minimal or no ski experience to eventually ski some of the most challenging terrain at the resort, such as runs off the Jupiter lift, which services black and double black diamond terrain.

“My favorite part of the mountain is King Con, but I’ve been up to Jupiter too,” said Martin Heredia, 9, who began learning to ski with the program two years ago.

The ability of new participants to rapidly improve their skills is due mainly to the structure of the program.

During the first three Saturdays of December, sponsor families pick up the children and bring them to the resort by 9 a.m. Half an hour later children are grouped based on skill level and experience with ski instructors who teach the children until noon.

After the free lessons, all of the children, instructors, and sponsor families converge at the bottom of the Payday lift and head to lunch at the resort center.

“It’s not unusual that lunch will run over $1,000,” Oriente said. “Lunch is paid for by St. Mary’s church and wonderful donations that are given to us by the community.”

When participants are filled up and warmed up, the sponsors take the children back out if they want to continue skiing into the afternoon.

“After the first three Saturdays it’s ski whenever you want and as much as you want with the children,” Oriente said. “The kids I have now, we’ve skied over 15 times with them already.”

Also, many times a boy or girl will be paired with a sponsor who is in middle school or high school, fostering new friendships.

Jessica Murphy, a 9th-grade student at Treasure Mountain International School, skis with Oladyd Angeles, a 2nd-grade student at Trailside Elementary School.

The two ski together throughout the season and Murphy further aids Angeles in learning better technique.

“I usually go in front and she follows,” Murphy said.

Angeles, who has lived in Park City her whole life, said she likes the mountains and that her favorite part of the program is getting to ski.

Another pair who ski together is the duo of high school student Garret Glenn and Martin Heredia, a 4th-grade student at McPolin Elementary School.

“I like the big jumps,” said Heredia, when discussing his favorite part of skiing. “But I’ve made friends, too.”

When skiing together, Glenn said he prefers to let Heredia lead as he watches from behind to make sure Heredia is OK.

“It’s a good program,” Glenn said. “I like to be able to ski with him and help him out, help him get a little more practice and experience.”

Although he is only 9, Heredia already has a plan for his skiing future.

“When I am older I will teach other people to ski, too,” he said.

These examples of service and friendship illustrate that the program is about much more than just skiing.

“In my opinion this program has gone on to become the most interconnected relationship between the Hispanic and non-Hispanic community that exists in Park City,” Oriente said. “This is more than a cursory event. This can be a 12-month relationship, an ongoing relationship that takes many shapes and forms.”

While the Niños program fosters these connections, St. Mary’s is behind other efforts to improve integration.

“We have Spanish masses, but we also have a bilingual mass that we do during Lent and Holy Week,” Bussen said.

He also said he has seen improvements in the school systems, healthcare services and with other programs such as the Big Brothers and Big Sisters program, the Boy’s and Girl’s Club and the tennis program that St. Mary’s helps run.

In fact, the children who participate in Niños on Skis can segue straight into St. Mary’s tennis program, Oriente said. It provides another opportunity for interaction and learning by allowing boys and girls to transfer from a winter sport to a summer sport.

It seems that the divide that once existed in Park City is being joined.

“You keep making steps, you keep making strides,” Oriente said. ” I don’t know about the rest of Utah, but I know that in my own world in Park City we care. In the Niños program we can’t touch 10,000 lives, but I know we can touch the lives of 51 children, and that for me means a lot. I know that in some small way we are making a contribution.”

Generations divide the semantics of queer

Some see it as hate while the youth find empowerment

by CLAYTON NORLEN

The power of words is something a dictionary can’t define; people give power to words and decide their meaning. “Queer” is a word of hate and empowerment, and the meaning of queer changes with context and intent.

Queer began as an adjective that meant strange, different, weird, irregular or odd. In the 1960s it became a hateful word that was used against members of the gay community. In 1969, gay, bisexual and transgender people in New York City rioted against police brutality in the Stonewall Rebellion. Queer took on a new meaning then, when it was adopted word was now used as a derogatory stereotype against the lifestyles of gay or transgender people.

“There are a lot of people today who are still offended to be called queer, but there are others who will say, ‘Thank you very much,'” said Melvin Nimer, who is the president of the Utah chapter of the Log Cabin Republicans and is openly gay. “It’s all in how the word is used. If it is used as a put-down, as a slur, then it is hate speech. But often enough I hear it used as a term of empowerment by the youth.”

In the 1890s, American scientists created the term “homosexual” to describe men who were attracted to other men. Gay men were first described as inverts, and science suggested that the reason why men were attracted to other men was because gay men had a “woman inside them,” said Bonnie Owens, a senior majoring in gender studies at the University of Utah and an intern for the Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual and Transgender Resource Center on campus. Shortly after homosexuality was defined, the term “heterosexual” was created to define what 19th-century society perceived as a normal sexual attraction. After homosexuality was defined as the act of men having sex with men, an identity began to be imposed on men that labeled them as “others,” and a sub-culture began to take shape soon after.

With large numbers of people moving into the cities during the Industrial Revolution, children became less useful to families who no longer needed their children’s free help to maintain a farm. Women postponed marriage and were entered the work force. As intercourse became less about reproduction and more about pleasure in large cities, gay bars, clubs and bathhouses sprang up across the country to accommodate a growing gay-male subculture, Owens said.

During World War II, a mass movement of young men overseas into single-sex, volatile environments where they were taught to depend on and care for one another instead of competing. New relationships were presented for men who had never heard the term homosexual before, and some began to explore them. Back home, women were encouraged to work and taught to be economic and social equals with men. This allowed women to embrace they idea of being independent from their male counterparts. These events allowed people who were already questioning their personal identities and the structure of their relationships to further explore their sexuality.

“In the 1930s and 1940s, we saw homosexuality being used as an empowerment term, so people were identifying as a homosexual,” Owens said. “Then in the 1960s we [saw] the term gay being used and replacing homosexual. Then Stonewall happened and sparked the gay rights movement that led to the queer movement we have today.”

After Stonewall, the gay rights movement grew and took shape throughout the 1970s and 1980s, allowing people to openly identify with any sexual orientation and explore relationships that society still scrutinized as deviant or unnatural. The reclamation of the word queer began in 1990 with the publication of Judith Butler’s “Gender Trouble,” a book that explored and explained the numerous sexual and gender identifications that people were using to define themselves.

Now, in 2007, many teens and LGBT students on college campuses are identifying as queer-opting not to base their identity solely on their sexual orientation, but instead choosing to identify with the community included under the term queer. In academia, queer and gender studies courses have made queer identity and philosophy somewhat mainstream on campus, but these theories of inclusiveness haven’t become prominent among everyone in LGBT communities.

“Queer is a very liberating identity to me,” Owens said. “Queer is something that connects me to, and makes me part of, a community. The reason I identify as queer is because it encompasses my gender identity and my sexual orientation.”

Who is queer and who may identify as queer are perspectives that change depending on who is asked. To Owens, queer includes lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, questioning and intersex peoples and their allies. Everyone is queer in an academic sense, because no one is truly normal or average; everyone has differences that make people queer. Sex beyond the purpose of reproduction is queer, Owens said.

The modern queer movement is only 17 years old, but because the new face of the gay movement is considerably young, there is an apparent generational disconnect between the youth and established LGBT communities across the nation. For many older LGBT individuals, their association with queer remains derogatory because it was a term that was used to divide and separate them from the norm on the playground and in the work place.

“I just don’t like the word queer,” said Rep. Jackie Biskupski, D-Utah, who is openly lesbian. “I can’t explain it, but part of it could be the history behind it. The word and use of the word queer, to me, makes it sound like you are goofy, that something isn’t quite right about you.”

Biskupski chooses not to use or identify as queer, but she said she knows people who do and use the term positively. She compared the LGBTQ youth’s struggle to reclaim queer to the black communities’ reclamation of “nigger,” saying that the same controversy applies. Many of the questions that arise out of these situations are, who can use the word? Who is part of the community? Whom is it empowering and whom is it degrading?

Semantics aside, Biskupski sees a growing number of youth identifying as queer instead of strictly gay or lesbian.

“I like queer because it is more than an identity — it is an ideology,” said Jose Rodriguez, and a junior majoring in social justice and policy at the U. “Anybody can be queer, and I like that you can queer anything-politics, society or culture, anything. Queer identity tries to reclaim spaces where LGBTQ people have been marginalized, so they can become safe again.”

The queer movement pulls away from identity-based politics and into coalition building through merging the LGBTQQIA community under one distinct, open title. Queer is a way for these diverse and separate communities to come together and stand behind one issue-human rights-while still being capable of supporting one another through synergy, Rodriguez said.

For these reasons of inclusion, Rodriguez doesn’t identify as queer because he sees it as a movement that is primarily white and devoid of racial and socio-economic consideration. Although Rodriguez recognizes many queer theorists are trying to overcome the exclusionary injustice toward communities of color, he instead chooses to identify as Xueer so his race, gender identity, sexual orientation and background can all be factors in defining him.

“As more and more identities start to get their own voices and as we move forward, we have to make that jump towards being inclusive-we have to open up ourselves,” Owens said. “We are so caught up on words and terms, and what we can say, but the point is that even if we didn’t identify under a single word, we’re always going to have to identify under the single term of ‘other.'”

The goal with the queer movement and identity is to make it so large that it will erase itself, Owens said. Her goal is to make every identity have the same value, so people don’t have to rally toward a certain goal such as equal rights. They could just assume that legislation would encompass everyone.

“I identify as a normal person. I’m gay, but that is normal to me, and I don’t look at myself in any other way,” Nimer said. “To accept the queer movement we have to realize we’re all different, and in a sense we are all queer. Everyone should be included in the queer community, but right now [queer] is just used to describe the gay and lesbian communities.”