When I was a little girl, I used to think about how to organize the world in a better
way. In fact, when I was about 6 or 7, I remember going up to my mom and saying,
“Mom, why can’t we all just work, and then the money goes into a pile. Whatever
people need, they can just take it and everyone would have enough?”
“No Tania, that would be communism and it doesn’t work”
As an immigrant from communist Poland, she knew what she was talking about.
My mom had a lot of influence on my world saving aspirations, though she probably
didn’t realize it. I remember listening to the lyrics of Cat Stevens, The Beatles,
and Simon and Garfunkel during our car long rides up to the Catskills for skiing. I
loved the peace message and as I grew older, I became disappointed that my own
generation wasn’t able to “get it together” and have some sort of moral purpose.
I admired those old songwriters from the 60’s and 70’s. They were sculpting the
world with their soundtrack for that entire generation, and their words still rang
true. Why couldn’t I have been alive back then?
In high school, I read 1984, Brave New World, Fahrenheit 451, Animal Farm, and
more. I was fascinated by these dystopian novels and saw hints of their truth in
every day life. This was scary stuff, but I still didn’t have an answer.
Around the time when Brittney Spears and ‘N Sync came out, I basically gave up
on modern music. I was going to Berklee College of Music in Boston and retreated
back in time. Prince, Nina Simone, Stevie Wonder, Billie Holiday, and more became
my new soundtrack. I learned a lot from those greats, and continued to grow as an
artist and conscientious person. I read a lot, stuff like Ishmael and Lies My Teacher
Told Me in addition to the classics. I strived to be an educated and well-rounded
woman even though music school didn’t really cover a lot of that stuff. I did have
an incredible Art History teacher though, Henry Tate. He would show us how art
reflected the times and had layers of messages hidden in the brush strokes. People
couldn’t always speak out against the ruling class, but they could if they did it with
art. It was a secret weapon in a way, and I loved that.
My first year where I cared about politics was 2008. I had been watching lots of
documentaries and became a huge Dennis Kucinich supporter. I liked Ron Paul, but
what kind of a weirdo didn’t like the EPA? Didn’t he care about the environment?
Or what about his stance on universal healthcare? How could he be so right on
certain issues, and so off base on others? So I resolved to throw my support behind
his Democratic doppelganger.
Well, that went nowhere. After Dennis’s ride on Air Force One, I felt he had sold out.
So like the rest of Americans, I disengaged from the political process and carried on
my merry way. Don’t get me wrong, I still watched documentaries and read. I even
wrote a song called Evolution that called my fellow earthlings to action. I thought
we could bring about the best in ourselves through our intellect and that evolution
didn’t have to take millions of years when we had the Internet. But there wasn’t
much sense of direction if I was the only one I knew that was trying to evolve.
In 2011, an ex-Marine friend of mine filled me in on the Federal Reserve. WHAT
THE HELL WAS GOING ON HERE? This was the “aha!” moment. We were all getting
robbed and no one was even aware this was happening right under our noses?!
I watched “Freedom To Fascism”, “Fiat Empire”, and my favorite, “The Money
Masters”. I was outraged, but also focused. This was a whole new level of lying to
the people, and especially in the schools. This was the real truth and I had to know
more!
So in the cold winter, I marched down to Zuccotti Park. I was intrigued, but
I thought the people there looked a little dirty and unconventional. While I
understood their message and really admired them, I could see why their approach
and appearance would block some people’s ability absorb what these protesters
were saying. “Normal” people who made up the larger masses were uncomfortable
with the dreadlocks and whole “live in a tent” thing. I figured if I could go down
there and look like the nice, attractive young lady my mother trained me to be, I
could win some folks over and get the word out about the Fed.
He and I printed up some DVDs and I sweetly offered them to the Occupiers,
tourists, and NY-ers alike. I still remember this one socialist (one of the few people
there that looked like he had been to the Laundromat- clever fellow) telling me
how HIS brand of socialism was great. It was fun to tell him, “Um, my mom is from
Poland. Pretty sure it doesn’t work buddy”.
And then I found Aimee Allen (insert Gospel Choir Ahhhh’s). This woman was
an inspiration. I remember reading the comments on her videos from the people
begging her to write more music like the Ron Paul Revolution song. She wasn’t
interested though at the moment. I am sure after years of immersing herself in
the political world, she needed a break. I also watched her on Alex Jones. Her
tale of being beaten within an inch of her life scared me straight. I wept for her,
deeply saddened by the reality of what had happened. I know this isn’t confirmed
(how could it be), but I felt that attack wasn’t the way it seemed and that she had
been targeted for what she sang about. She risked her own life to speak the truth;
what a truly remarkable hero she was. The fact that she was a woman was also
inspiring. I loved all those cool female singers growing up (Jewel, Indigo Girls, Tori
Amos, Alanis), and she fit right in. I was so sick of the cheap images of women being
shoved down our collective throats in pop culture! This chic had cajones!
I was inspired to write my own messages in my songs reflecting our times. I also
covered a famous Bob Dylan song “Masters Of War.” People really responded. It
was remarkable and very sad how over decades, this song was still relevant. As I
was welcomed into the liberty family, I felt I had finally come full circle. All those
incredible works from music, to movies, to visual art and the written word had
created and sculpted me into being a source of inspiration for others. There was
such incredible beauty in that; it made me weep with joy and fulfillment.
When I was asked to write this blog, I was feeling a bit down and overwhelmed.
There are a lot of great things in the movement, but there are charlatans here like
everywhere. Lots of people violate contracts and don’t practice what they preach.
Some people are cruel, even evil, and they wrap themselves up in the liberty flag.
It’s easy to get burnt out or discouraged. However, I find myself turning to this FB
message I got a few months ago:
“In 1999 NATO bombed my country, killed thousands, poisoned the countryside
with depleted uranium, destroyed all bridges in my hometown… and killed 3 year
old girl Milica Rakic, calling her cynically a “collateral damage”.
I’m listening tonight your performance of Dylan’s Masters of War song and crying.
It so hurts. I heard once “the wound is the place where the Light enters you.” Your
voice is the light.”
That is the power of music. That is the power of art. It’s such an incredible bridge to
others and I’m reminded to be grateful for my gift to help heal the world. Thank you
to all the amazing artists that have helped me find my calling. My generation has
meaning, we are all in this together, and on the same side.
