franticness and pleasure: a whirlwind

I spent the weekend reading Exile and Pride by Eli Clare. A poetic read... stellar intervention for disability and queer studies, and a whole new interpretation of intersectionality that relies, quite literally, on the trees and earth in rural Oregon and the streetscape of urban Michigan. Eli writes about his upbringing as a girl of confused femininity on the West Coast. He relays the sense of exile and homesickness and loss that he still feels, especially realizing this through a relationship with nature that is no longer possible in urban life. But life in the city means safety and fun in a queer community - a new sense of freedom and belonging. Eli writes charismatically. I found myself imagining he was writing about me. Deep space, memory and nostalgia (named homesickness). So fascinating. 


On a more upbeat note, guess what is all happening over the next two days in O-town?! Robert Smith? on statistics and mathematics at the Interdisciplinary Studies Conference this afternoon (3pm Agora), Allyson Mitchell's "Finding Your Outer Lesbian Sasquatch" tonight (7pm) at Perez Hall, and Judith "Jack" Halberstam's, "The Killer in Me is the Killer in You: Homosexuality and Fascism" tomorrow night at Carleton.


Over the next 48 hours, I will be gulping coffee, writing a page an hour and attending the events of these glorious scholars. SEE YOU THERE, TIGERS!!

cheerios and wine together taste fine

Feeling emotionally hungover after numerous March 8th festivities (complete with backlash from men and women, pictures of destroyed fetuses outside of two events and a series of soul-depleting statistics on the global statuses of women and girls), I spent the day of March 9th buried in work trying to fix the situation (eye roll).

This morning, I lectured on feminist contributions to sociology. Nobody egged me: success. I spent the next four hours gulping espresso, paddling through the literature on the post-war history of Canadian women in higher education in preparation for a meeting with my dissertation supervisor. Filled with "the more I know, the I KNOW NOTHING!!" sensation, I confidently held office hours and tried to explain to an overwhelmed undergraduate student why "trying to figure out how to stop youth crime" is too huge a topic for a five page assignment. Then I had my dissertation meeting. Then I walked home. Wait. Bought a bottle of wine. Then I walked home.

Feelin' the stress, I wolfed week-old cold biryani out of a take-out carton from the back of my fridge while chatting with my roommate, Mark, about Aeroplan miles and hydraulics. That's when I hit my new low: I poured myself a 'glass' of wine... into... a Tupperware container... of Cheerios.

I don't know how this happened. First off, the Tupperware housed the Cheerios because the container was on the counter when I had the box in my hand and I was too lazy (read: hysterical) to take a bowl out of the cupboard. Halfway through making my cereal dessert (which was also my breakfast this morning), I think wine must have become my priority, hence Cabernet Cheerios. Cheerios Franc.

Admittedly, this is a self-indulgent post, but it's just to come out with the fact that studying and promoting and critiquing and defending feminism and women's issues can be maddening. As we witnessed yesterday, these are exciting and privileged times, but they are defined by a state of conflict in which you are usually on the defense. Big shout out to IWS colleagues today, and grad students everywhere! Hope to see you all at the 12-hour Equal Voice (Promoting the Election of Women in Canada!) symposium tomorrow.... :S

Happy 100th International Women's Day!!

March 8th, one of the most exciting days of my year.


As I got dressed this morning (into a dress, not jeans!), I thought of other women getting dressed. Bodies slipping limbs through holes in clothing, covering, protecting and comforting. Through happy and confused tears, I felt so lucky to be in a warm home, freshly showered, having the privilege of time to let the weight of the vulnerability and power of women's bodies press into me. Because of the hard work of the women and men allies before me, I can clothe myself, feed myself, and ride my bike to a breakfast at Parliament Hill... myself!


Every year, the NDP hosts a breakfast on March 8th. As my friend, Richa, pointed out, it's nice to see this event happening in the same building where decisions are made to take our funding away. The taste of subversion was in the air today. This year, hosted by Irene Mathyssen, the speakers included the prolific Nobel Laureate, Jody Williams and the eloquent and stunning women's rights activist, Erin Williams. In entirely different styles, both gave captivating, stimulating, hilarious accounts of what it means to be a fighter for justice that left me filled with pride and anger.


Jody captured my confusion beautifully this morning: why are we still asking men, other human beings, for permission to be equal? At its most basic, inequality is rampant and somehow covert. Just let the fact that there has never been a woman President of the United States smack you in the face for a second. THERE HAS NEVER BEEN A WOMAN PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES. SMACK!


Much of today is about sharing facts that incite anger. This is very important, as eyes are on the status of women and women's issues today, and it is crucial that we take this opportunity to highlight the work that needs to be done. In Ottawa, for example, eight women a day are sexually assaulted and one will report. In this country and all over the world, women are being sexually assaulted, mutilated and killed because they are women. Don't let "REAL" women of Canada fool you. There is A LOT of work to be done.


The future seems daunting, especially given the erosion of rights in the past five years under this government, but it's not all bleak. Everyday I have the great honour of feeling the solidarity of women in my life, and I witness the exciting work of young feminist activists across political lines. We're not dropping the torch of the wavers before us. This morning I felt the incredible support of our allies when I squeezed Jeremy's hand at the Women's Day breakfast, when I got a text from my uncle in Vancouver wishing me a great IWD, when my man friends Sascha, Zac and Scott 'liked' my IWD facebook status, and when Josh, my barista, pushed my complimentary tea across the counter with a jovial "yay, women!"


So for now, I'm taking this moment, with my green tea and the sun streaming through the window of this cafe, to wish you all a day of happiness, solidarity and celebration. We have come a long way and there is reason to be hopeful that we can make as many strides in the next 100 years. Happy March 8th! Here's an article for your morning beverage :)


http://www.theglobeandmail.com/news/world/in-much-of-the-world-gains-in-womens-rights-elude-a-silent-majority/article1933117/singlepage/#articlecontent

represent!

This morning, I attended a brilliant symposium with two of my colleagues called Kknnoowwiinngg Bbooddiieess: Bodies of Knowledge. All of this embodied stimulation makes me want a career change into media and representation studies (good thing nobody knows what women's studies is... so maybe I can be tricky and work in disguise). The speakers looked at the representation of bodies (all kinds, including pregnant and embryonic ones), language, voice and monsters (mostly zombies). Cool!

I think that critique of representation gets a bad rap in mainstream culture. I remember last year at this time when the CBC published an article about reviewing the lyrics to "O Canada" for gender neutrality, the general public was up in arms with reactions like "Damn picky feminists can't just leave things alone," and "What difference do words make?" These comments, by the way, were the more tame on the CBC public comment boards. Other telling themes emerged like "changing the words would make the anthem inauthentic" and "we don't need to worry about gender neutrality anymore because women have achieved equality with men."


Is it just me, or do people seem far too comfortable living with representations that don't represent them? I'd even go so far as to suggest that people seem uncomfortable discussing representations as representative (it could be read as disinterest, but I think it goes deeper than that). I often field comments to the tune of "can't you just enjoy... [a children's movie; a joke about women; commentary on stereotypes]?" Sure, I enjoy lots of problematic things, but I also want to be aware of what and who are being represented and by whom so that I might challenge some sketchy assumptions.

Representations surround us and determine how we interpret and come to understand the world. Thinking about representation reveals hints at assumptions, claims, cultural beliefs... even political undercurrents that creepily reveal the erosion of our democracy -- check out the PMO release rebranding of The Government of Canada as the Harper Government for a gross example. 

On the topic, check out the Newsom film Miss Representation about the under-rep of women in power in the US. Strong case against "can't feminists just leave things alone" and "equality is here."

Pull up your socks, Western feminism!

Gearing up for International Women's Week/Day, I attended Eve Ensler's The Vagina Monologues at the National Gallery with my boyfriend and his/our (male) friend. Feeling the gender solidarity, I relaxed into my chair and let the vagina talk sweep me into a world of love for bleeding, hair and odours. I have to say, for all my squeamishness, it is a pretty liberating atmosphere. Nobody calls that stuff "discharge" and hair is not prefaced with "unwanted" and it's considered par for the course to take a time out to inspect oneself with a spotlight and a hand mirror. My vagina thought this was a good place. On top of this, our friend Meg performed two monologues, and she was fabulous.

HOWEVER, as is to be expected at a relatively mainstream feminist event, I found some of the transcript frighteningly problematic. I don't see the event as male- or hetero-hating, and while we could spend time debating the use of the word "vagina" and the hetero=violence, lesbian=rescuer representations, I'm not too hung up on this (actually, I sort of am, but I'll save it for another time). There is stuff going on with this V-Day move to "end violence against women and girls," though, that makes me squirm...

I know I'm hypersensitive to race issues at the moment, but these need to be addressed in mainstream liberal/radical Western feminist activism. The Vagina Monologues unwittingly contributes to the colonial feminism that some feminist activists in academia and the community are trying desperately to attack. Inadvertent or not, it's time for activism to be more self-aware.

Every year, V-Day highlights a different world issue under the VAW theme. This year, all eyes are on women in Haiti. Hmmm... This provoked a background check on my part which upturned the colonial roots I anticipated. In 2003, Eve Ensler focused the spotlight on women under Taliban rule in Afghanistan with a monologue entitled "Under the Burqa." Nice post-9/11 "war on terror" timing, Eve. Now that I've done some digging, I realize my sense of covert racism in Eve's themes was bang on. While the monologues I watched weren't as explicitly Orientalist as "Under the Burqa," and I think the racism and colonialism bound up in the Monologues is unintentional, the ignorance is inexcusable. Addressing a "third world woman's" (hate this concept, think it's essentialist, read: Chandra Mohanty) experience with violence and rape is irresponsible feminism. In My Village Was My Vagina, a tribute to the "victims" of rape camps in Bosnia and Kosovo, rape and torture is totally externalized as something that is committed by others, against others. Where are the situated knowledges? Where is the critique of domestic violence at home on Turtle Island? Where is the monologue about the pretty (Christian) white woman in Connecticut whose handsome (upper class) husband comes home from his Manhattan office and rapes her on their marital bed? And what about rape in queer relationships? What about sexual violence by women? What's with all the ablebodiedness? The more I think about it, the more the representations in this play disappoint me. They disappoint me... they drive me nuts.

AND THIS BRINGS ME TO LADY GAGA'S BORN THIS WAY VIDEO!!

Not to harp on Gaga, but her most recent video begs feminist commentary. Alright, rewriting the creation myth, check. Cyborgs, double check. Gender bending/refusal, it's all there. If you're looking for a neat summary of Gaga's appropriation of these tried and true Western feminist traditions, the LA Times Music Blog nails it.

Problem: representation of difference. What difference? Sure, she's appropriating queer/drag imagery as she tells us we're beautiful even if we're disabled, trans, Lebanese or "orient." Well that's a relief. But where is the diversity in this video? Gaga can't help being a thin blonde bombshell in a designer bikini ("God makes no mistakes!"), but she can, as an artist, take responsibility for her own self-proclaimed feminism. Her trans imagery was femmed out to the max and her hallmark plastic makeup and hair extensions routine felt a little much for the "I'm beautiful in my way" theme.

Nice track, Gaga, but get some guts.

changing my mind on racism

As promised in my profile blurb, I already disagree with much of what I said last Friday. Time to reconsider!


This weekend past, I read Razack's (2008) Casting Out: The Eviction of Muslims from Western Law and Politics. It is now one of my fave Razack books. I approached the read with a thirst for eloquently woven arguments on controversial topics (namely, terrorism and the middle east) and, as usual, Razack delivers. At times her rhetoric becomes a little catch-phrasey and a few of her analogies are far-fetched even for me (especially one Dworkin reference to orgasms and torture. Whaaaa?), but it makes for good sound bites on issues that are often inadequately represented in feminist scholarship. She also dares to give words to thoughts that I am too nervous (or too confused about) to voice. Three cheers for Razack!


Razack's major intervention in Casting Out is reconceptualizing racism as 'race thinking' with regard to the modern state. This term, originally coined by Hannah Arendt in The Origins of Totalitarianism, has been taken up by others including Irene Silverblatt and David Goldberg. Building on brilliant stuff, Razack brings the concept of race thinking to the phrase "American values" or "Canadian values." Race thinking is broader than racism. Race thinking is a "structure of thought that divides up the world between the deserving and undeserving according to descent" (8). When race thinking unites with bureaucracy, it becomes an organizing principle, no longer recognized as a prejudice. For example, the pursuit of upholding the so-called values of, say, Canadian culture (whatever that means), conceals just how racist is the hierarchy of values.


This pertains to my discussion of xenophobia in stabs at xenophobia, stabs at discovery where I say there is nothing wrong with fearing the strange and preferring the familiar. I now aim my critique (against myself) at the notion of preference, since this in fact delineates a hierarchy that contributes to race thinking. As Razack (via Hannah Arendt via Erich Voegelin) demonstrates, race thinking leads to racism when it is launched politically. And! This happens all the time. For example, my 'freedom' to prefer the coffee of a major chain and to demonstrate 'preference' through my consumer habits leads to the boycotting and displacement of the longstanding local cafe. This didn't happen, but you get the drift. And I would argue that these sorts of analogies must be acknowledged for being racialized, gendered, sexed, classed, etc. The displacement happens with regard to much bigger issues, too, especially in the name of anti-terrorism measures. Further, as Razack demonstrates with examples of security-certificate hearings and sleeper cell logic, race thinking can easily become codified. Ahh!


This afternoon I attended a lunchtime workshop where one of my colleagues presented on secularism and the veil. It was wonderfully organized and thought provoking, and my ruminations are bleeding into an idea for educating against race thinking to prevent formal/political racism. Foggy yet, but stimulating an onslaught of interesting/disruptive self-reflection. Good stuff.