graduation, bar exam, internet detox. -s
Over all this, the NYT rode its ‘journalistic’ tractor til all that was left was one pudgy, Punjabi ‘lion.’ Of course, Sharif wants to be seen that way (well, maybe not pudgy), a leader who commands the abject loyalty of the masses. To fall for for that however is to mistake political manipulation for fact, perhaps not unsurprising in a paper that has been–how shall we say it?–fairly gullible when it comes to politicians these last eight years. So, how does it happen that a mass-based movement becomes conflated with one man? Mere credulousness on the part of the NYT is too simplistic an answer. It’s more than that. It’s about those technical requisites of modern American journalism that employ the techniques of fiction to explain events. Journalists are familiar with having to find “characters” and “scenes” for their narrative. In so doing, the field sometimes breaks a cardinal rule of the social sciences: individuals are not stand-ins for social forces. Sharif is not the movement. It’s a theory of history that’s silly and deadly. It’s what walked the US into Iraq and has it looking for Osama bin Laden as al-Qaeda incarnate, now.
Once social forces are written off the page, it becomes easy to forget that they ever existed or can have an autonomous impact. The story that is ‘Pakistan,’ in the NYT, hangs together as a small cast of disparate, unseemly characters: the demagogic opposition leader, Nawaz Sharif, an oily Zardari, a hapless Gilani, the inscrutable Kayani. It’s the actions of these great men, not ‘great’ in the normative sense of excellent, terrific, first-rate, but rather mammoth personalities that seem to drive events through their charisma and skill. Those who marched from Quetta, from Karachi, from Lahore only constitute a delirious mob, full of fury, signifying nothing. This is a particular kind of story about how change happens except that in ‘Pakistan,’ the story never changes.
Rich with links, facts, and just thoroughly taking down the veil of ignorance that plagues some types of reporting on critical events in Pakistan (and arguably the entire Eurasian landmass), it’s worth reading in its entirety. Many thanks to Buria for linking it to me.
When I saw Michelle Obama enter the chambers for the State of the Union address, wearing a fabulous sleeveless dress, my first thought was: “she must be cold.” Because you see, everywhere I go, I’m cold; perhaps my core temperature is set differently. I am rarely without a scarf or shawl. I regularly keep an extra sweater or jacket in my office. I have been in that very room in Washington and the entire building is cold. So my reaction to Michelle Obama comes from my sensibility of being someone who thinks most public buildings are kept way too cold. I don’t covet Obama’s sexy arms; I want the kind of metabolism that will keep me warm when I am wearing a sleeveless dress.
So while a conversation about Michelle Obama can lead us to useful discussions about public images of black women’s bodies, there are also some other public issues that also bear the imprint of race and the public imagination – even on some very subtle levels. Just yesterday, an Alabama gunman killed 10 people and himself in a senseless rampage. Last week, an Ohio man killed five of his family members and later killed himself. And just this past Sunday, an Illinois pastor was shot and killed during a church service. These three incidents are just a small example of the gun violence that plagues our country. What of these arms?
– Yolanda Pierce. Go read it all.
(A free-write reflection in response to reading a sister’s answer.)
I’m in the SPEAK! project, and I almost didn’t want to be. I was scared, and it was going on during a time I felt scared of everything. Even my shadow was maligning. I panicked when I remembered I said I would contribute. At that point, most of the other contributors attended last year’s AMC and recorded theirs in a studio. I only had the built-in microphone on my laptop. I tried test recordings, just saying words, and the shakiness of my voice made me cry. The crying made my voice break and tremble even more before I abandoned it for the night.
The next day I tried again, and this time I took Deep Breaths. Will record this poem. Will send it away to CD Land. Gonna do it, gonna do it… I took one big giant breath, and I blazed through the poem I wrote shortly after erasing my previous blog. I sent it off after listening to it once and I sent it to my co-blogger. I’d promised. I wrote that poem when I felt tired of absorbing blows, tired of expectations to plow through painful ordeal after painful ordeal. My voice felt weary and broken speaking about every injustice that crossed my path, and when I started feeling physically ill, emotionally ill, mentally unstable I didn’t ask myself, “Why am I in so much pain?” I asked, “Does this make me a bad friend? A bad blogger? A bad writer? A bad activist? A bad feminist? A bad black woman? A bad person? Why am I becoming so weak?”
So weak. So down. So blinded to the sunshine and energy surrounding me.
I’ve never had a chance to try to understand pain or hurt in my life. Writing in journals, blogs, notebooks — my writing is my main exploratory avenue for understanding and learning from pain and failure. Throughout traumatic experiences in my personal world, I’ve always had to take one for the team. Be strong. Help fight. Stand up and move. Care for people. But I’d be lying if I said these actions — now instinctive — were what I truly desired to do. And sometimes I think I take it for granted that everyone faces tasks that she may not wish to do. Everyone faces situations that she would rather avoid. But what happens when you feel dragged through these tasks and situations unnecessarily? What happens when you wind up in certain situations because someone haphazardly carries you there and abandons you?
BA’s entry then led me to understand why I couldn’t get upset. It wasn’t that I was incapable of being upset or invulnerable. But often when the youngest of a group or gathering gets upset or expresses some inclination of hurt or pain, it sends a current of fear through the entire group. Never be young and sense that something is wrong. Never let on that you know something’s wrong. When the youngest of the gathering starts to feel pain, it adds to the collective pain of the group. It’s easier to tell someone to fight when you can’t explain why they were wronged. It’s easier to tell someone to move than it is to sit and let them sort things out. This fighting culture has no time for exploration, for healing, for understanding the true sources of pain and energy. This fighting culture only has time to make pain stop so you can stand up and keep fighting for… what? Crumbs? Coins? Ideas? You fight, you fall, you get up — on and on and on until what happens? Where exactly will our fights lead?
I struggle more with hurt and pain than I should. I admit that freely. I am an Over Thinker as well as an Over Sharer. I grew up for so long in such a cloistered-off space where I couldn’t talk about anything, lest I betray something or someone or some place or some idea. But what happens when the thoughts and questions in my head have nowhere else to go? Even the most banal activities keep me fascinated because they are so minute, yet so integral to daily life. I’d like to paint myself as a warrior princess, a drum major for justice, or something equally combative and noble. But honestly, I’m just a person. Can’t I enjoy that, explore that, stay in that without pursuing your dreams and your hopes? Does my desire to do that indicate there’s something wrong with me or with you?
Do you trust that I’ll come through after I take time to heal myself?
It is wrong to think that love comes from long companionship and persevering courtship. Love is the offspring of spiritual affinity and unless that affinity is created in a moment, it will not be created in years or even generations.
from The Broken Wings
Life without Love is like a tree without blossom and fruit. And Love without Beauty is like flowers without scent and fruits without seeds… Life, Love, and Beauty are three persons in one, who cannot be separated or changed.
from Thoughts and Meditations
I want to sing to you, my love
My only love and happiness
Don’t be so blue, so blue my love
This too shall pass; this too shall pass…
I blame Kameelah for my newfound musical addiction to her.
(And yes, I am in the midst of feel good, truth telling, cathartic blogging.)
all the male poets write of orpheus
as if they look back & expect
to find me walking patiently
behind them. they claim i fell into hell.
damn them, i say.
i stand in my own pain
& sing my own song.
A guest post by Aaminah Hernández.
1) Say we are too “involved” or biased in regards to the subject, and claim that you are more “objective”.
This is frequently done to silence people who are trying to tell their own story. Academia is famous for this, but it happens outside academia as well. For example, who are the acknowledged “experts” about our cultures, religions, and lives? Why are there white upper-class men teaching Women’s studies, white upper-class women teaching African or Latin American studies, and white upper-class Christians or atheists teaching Islamic studies? Why does the media go to people outside the group they are speaking about to ask their opinion and views on a subject? The claim is that people of color and women are not “objective”. Especially in regards to religion, this is frequently thrown out there when discussing “Eastern” religions like Islam, Buddhism and Hinduism; we are viewed as too biased to speak about our own history, culture and beliefs.
2) Say we are ignorant of the subject, even though the subject is our own life, history, culture or religion, because we have dared to speak to our own story and question the way outsiders have portrayed it. This includes questioning our academic background (or lack of), our writing style/ability, and whether or not we cite “accepted” texts to prove our points.
So called “experts” are the most obvious examples of this, and this ties in with
number one above, but it is also enacted regularly by non-experts. The blogging world, for example, is full of people who think they know about something because they read it on-line or have a friend of a friend who experienced xyz, and then they use this as a means to say that this is the only version that is valid. Rarely are women of color allowed to speak to our own experience, to say that we were mistreated or discriminated against without someone else claiming that we are “reading too much into it”. Similarly, if we speak of the beauty and empowerment we have found in our own culture or religion, there is someone quick to dismiss it as an anomaly or us not knowing enough about where we come from to realize the intricate workings of oppression inherent in what we have stated we are not oppressed by.
3) Speak condescendingly towards us. Tell us we are too young or too old, naïve or bitter, and that we are angry or emotional, etc.
This is one of the most offensive things done by other women. We all recognize it when done by men, and we all rally around the anger and hurt that it causes then, but some of us experience it more frequently from our fellow women. Women of privilege regularly say these things to women of color as a way of silencing our questioning of their intentions, goals, and strategies. Rather than engaging why we are angry, we are dismissed for expressing deep emotion. Rather than accepting the opinions of a woman that differ, it is said that she is “old school” or “out of touch” or that she is too cynical because of past experience and therefore not giving the new guard a chance. Young women who come full of energy and new ideas are discouraged from changing the way things have been done and told that they are ignorant of the big picture. Act as though you are protecting us, mentoring us, looking out for our good – basically patting us on the head and telling us to pipe down.
4) Pull out your “credentials” to show that you have more support and legitimacy than we do.
This ties in with the idea of “experts” but goes one farther. If writing for a large feminist blog, the offending woman will say that the size of the blog is proof of her legitimacy. She will claim to have many followers, and her followers can’t be wrong, so she must be saying something right. She will point to a woman of color’s blog and say that it is small, or accuse her of the bad grammar, unprofessional writing, and “hating” to show that her blog and writing is more appropriate, thereby her ideas must also be more correct. If the white feminist has been published in magazines or has published books, she will point to these as further proof of her credentials and acceptance from the larger society, mocking the woman of color who has not attained this sort of approval even if the woman of color doesn’t want to be published.
5) Say we are hurting the cause of feminism, or that we aren’t really feminist at all.
This one is perhaps the most damaging of all. First, it presumes that we consider ourselves “feminist” at all and thereby implies that there is something wrong with us if we don’t. Then it attempts to define what feminism is, what counts as feminism, and tells us that we aren’t really part of it, while trying to shame us and discount anything we have to say because it is “not feminist”. It does not allow that feminism could have different forms and faces, but limits it to what serves the white woman and nothing more. If, as women, we cannot set our own goals, speak to our own needs, and create our own agenda, then how “feminist” are you? Ignoring us, pushing our concerns to the back, this is what is really hurting the “Movement”. It is arrogant for certain women to sit in judgment of other women and whether or not they should be allowed into the ranks or allowed to use a label. But then, that’s probably why so many women of color are throwing away the label of our own accord. We don’t want to be confined to your self-serving definition.
FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE:
March 7, 2009
Compiled and arranged by Liquid Words Productions, the spoken word CD weaves together the stories, poetry, music, and writings of women of color from across the United States. The 20 tracks, ranging from the explosive “Why Do You Speak?” to the reverent “For Those of Us,” grant a unique perspective into the minds of single mothers, arrested queer and trans activists, excited children, borderland dwellers, and exploring dreamers, among many others.
“We want other women of color to know they are not alone in their experiences,” said writer and educator Alexis Pauline Gumbs of Broken Beautiful Press, one of the contributors to the CD. “We want them to know that this CD will give sound, voice and space to the often silenced struggles and dreams of women of color.”
The Speak! collective received grant assistance from the Allied Media Conference coordinators to release a zine complementing the works featured on the CD, as well as a teaching curriculum for educators to incorporate its tracks into the classroom environment.
“Speak! is a testament of struggle, hope, and love,” said blogger Lisa Factora-Borchers of A Woman’s Ecdysis. “Many of the contributors are in the Radical Women of Color blogosphere and will be familiar names… I can guarantee you will have the same reaction as to when I heard them speak, I was mesmerized.”
To promote the initiative, the Speak! collective is coordinating listening parties in communities across United States, creating short YouTube promotions illustrating the CD creation process, and collaborating with organizers and activists online and offline.
The CD is available for online ordering at http://speakmediacollective.com on a sliding scale beginning at $12. All inquiries for review copies should be directed to us at speakcd@gmail.com. Proceeds of this album will go toward funding for mothers and/or financially restricted activists attending the 11th Annual Allied Media Conference in Detroit, MI from July 16-19.
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Please spread the word on your blogs and websites!
