one's nethers, one's self

It's 40 degrees, therefore officially beach season, and everyone and their dogs are talking about pubic hair. 


Okay, not everyone is talking about it, but many in my close circles (and in close circles of strangers sitting next to me at the Manx) are discussing their preferred treatment of nether regions. To remove or not to remove is the most basic dilemma anchoring these conversations (basic, though theoretically fascinating and intellectually stimulating to me) - the how/what/where questions take divergent paths from there.


My good friend and esteemed colleague has written on this topic for thesis work and I should note that I am recording the following musings without being exposed to much of her or others' theorizing. The thought-flow that follows will likely be substantiated after consulting with experts in the field! Here are my untamed reactions.


So, pubic hair. I can see my parents cringing right now. Fair enough (sorry parents), but I insist on this topic to point out: nearly all of our cultural taboos are related to genitalia in strange/unintuitive and problematic ways, especially to the sexualized parts/processes of women. Menstruation, for example, is a prominent component of most lives and goes literally undiscussed in the mainstream unless referred to as part of a sexist slur, or framed as an (grotesque) inconvenience. I flag this because I am complicit in intentionally erasing menstruating bodies, to my own dismay.


This topic recently came up with a male friend of mine when we discussed the Julyna campaign. Julyna, spearheaded by Vanessa Willson in Toronto, is a campaign for raising money and awareness for/of cervical cancer. A response to Movember, the idea is to draw attention to women's pubic hair choices as a playful way to highlight the severity of cervical cancer and risk-reduction via the HPV vaccine. The choice can be no choice at all (see the Barbara Bush design), but I see this as an almost laughable option, as the footer reads, "No one knows how she styles her pubic hair, but I'm assuming she's too busy to trim." Read: you should, at least, trim.


To me, the creators of Julyna are no fools to the controversial personal choices of pubic hair maintenance. Their message is carefully and inclusively crafted as they advocate "exercising creativity and personal wellness" for this fundraising technique. That said, the concept is fairly free of consideration for the sociopolitical implications of fundraising vis-a-vis choice of pubic hair design. On that, Gender Focus provides a compelling reflection.

In this case of women's grooming, I think an intersectional analysis of the forces and fall-outs is demanded. Whose bodies participate in Julyna? Whose bodies are unable to participate? Whose bodies will never know about it?


While I initially became giddy at the thought of displaying a button about pubic hair to raise questions and reject a taboo, I doubt whether the idea of Julyna is as playful for most people as its creators have in mind. Come to think of it, it's not that playful to me. Will the focus on these choices serve to isolate women from their own bodies? In anticipation of Movember comparisons, I do not think the Julyna project posits an approach to cancer awareness that is nearly as neutral as grooming facial hair (I should add that I don't think the grooming of men's facial hair is politically neutral), nor do I think grooming is a simple choice to make.


The practice of regular waxing, for example, is extraordinarily cultured, raced, abled and classed, but the 'playful' pressure to conform to some standard set of grooming practices as a way of performing some version of normative sexuality erases these exclusionary modes and, to me, obscures any choice we have. The choice becomes which kind of razor, machine, cream or wax, and at home or at spa, rather than no choice at all, and we're bombarded with the (unchosen?) set of choices every time we climb into the shower and look down.

To take a personal example (without going too far to protect my family members' sanity), I have found myself so confused (especially in adolescence, but a lot since then also) by perceived social expectations of the presentation of my own naked body that I feel profoundly distanced from any sense of what I might want for myself, in terms of look, experience and cost. In this case, I would argue that I have been so inundated by the relatively narrow dialogue about hair in mass media and social life that I feel isolated from my own desire. What could be worse?


When I was at UBC, a marxist feminist professor confessed to me that while she does put some effort into her appearance (she always looked incredibly punkrock cool as she lectured us) she resists gendered beauty pressure/myths by vowing to spend about the same amount of money on her appearance as does her average male colleague. Her simple commitment blew my mind, and I've since vowed to do the same. Backing off makeup expenditures is simple (and liberating if you ask me), but regular waxing appointments sort of blows the balanced budget out of the water.

I know my friends out there are more informed on this issue than I am, so please feel free to educate me! I'd love to start some dialogue.

temporal critique and accepting being haunted

I dedicate this post to the occult. I have never known quite how to interpret the word occult, but I am using it to mean things unknown - not measurable by science and not occurring within modernist temporal imaginings. Perhaps the dedication will flatter processes enough that they will reveal themselves to me.


When considering and theorizing the occult in academic settings (which happens more frequently than I could have predicted), I have been squeamish. It could be because I have felt threatened by this undeniably allusive topic-afraid that appreciation for forces beyond my current awareness may stay outside of my perception and comprehension-but I think it is more likely that secretly, I wish to be the 'anti-colonial' 'progressive' feminist activist/academic who can write about alternative spiritualities... and I haven't been able to get into it.


I remember intro-level methodology at UBC when my professor began the first class by asking us if we find our daily horoscopes accurate. If I remember correctly, I spoke up saying no, and probably explained my skepticism about relying on unmeasurable things. Horoscope skepticism aside, my positivist education was palpable.


The myth of scientific objectivity/neutrality (and any reference to observing through the senses as truth-making) was busted by my feminist/critical sociologist educators years ago, but sacred power has (for me) remained obscure, and unattractive in its mysticism. A few months ago, I read Chandra Mohanty's Third World Women, Katherine McKittrick's Demonic Grounds, and M Jacqui Alexander's Pedagogies of Crossing, all of which at least allude to the occult or the sacred or alternative memory work in ways that assume problematic colonial ties to what is valued as knowledge in Western feminism(s). Reading the works of these admired scholars, I have been asking 'why the occult?' in prominent contemporary feminist/cultural theory. The most obvious answer to me is it is a necessary component of any resistance/anti-colonial project: to resist the displacement of indigenous knowledges by colonial temporal and spiritual understandings (that are framed as modern and therefore factual and desirable), but for some reason my curiousity is not allayed.

Recently, upon great recommendation from a professor, I have turned to cinema studies (Bliss Cua Lim, among others) in my exploration of the occult and temporal critique. Perhaps it is the media combination of film and narrative that allows me to see the power of the occult and alternative temporal imaginations, or maybe I'm just reading persuasive writers, but whatever it is, film studies is helping me understand lots about clocks, the unknown, and my own experience of being haunted. I'll continue to explore my relation to writing on the occult, but for now I am interested in how through memory (or, rather, a willingness to engage in memory work), we might snap ourselves out of a linear experience of time. We might experience "past leaning on the future" or simultaneous presents that occur outside of "5:00am" flashing on the digital alarm. I might accept the memories that haunt me as living in my present and determining my future - a future that continually combines my past and present lives - a future that need not attempt to reject hauntings of the past - a future that is more livable because it is haunted.

happy alberta, errr, canada day, turtle islanders

Holiday weekend in the National Capital Region! This time of year is always nuts in this town (ripe for social analysis), as tourists, suburban families and drunk teenagers descend on the various green spaces of Centretown to consume and perform nationalism. Last year, I tried to squash my political opposition to demonstrations of patriotism by donning my red and white maple leaf socks and starting the day on the Hill, but it turned out to be an isolating day of conflicting feelings. I remember feeling almost embarrassed that I wasn't having much fun with my friends and tried to change my attitude, but it didn't help and I wound up crying at a K-OS concert for reasons I cannot explain.


I will back track to set the scene for my West Coasters: Canada Day in Ottawa is a scary thing. National pride demos include swarms of people baring temporarily tattooed skin, ripping red and white clothing to expose more body parts, and chugging dark-coloured liquid out of plastic water bottles. To be clear, I'm not really against any of those things. It's the sum of the parts that is unappealing.


This year, Canada Day in Ottawa featured the crazed fans of the visiting royal Duke and Duchess. Terrifying. Aside from my pro-republic leanings, I find it remarkable that anyone would brave a crowd in 30 degrees plus humidity to watch two people walk by. To my friends who made it out for a glimpse of Kate and Will, please let me know what inspired you. And did you also watch the wedding?


In search of a holiday free from the masses, I leapt at the offer of a cottage escape on July 1st, and enjoyed a hot afternoon of swimming and lounging with extraordinary company on the Ottawa River. We talked about advocacy, women's rights, environmentalism and bio-ethics... there was no mention of cause for celebrating this great nation. Perhaps strangely, on a day spent tossing around difficult ethical issues, I felt more relaxed and appeased than I ever do when intentionally celebrating. I experienced waves of that I'm-so-lucky-to-be-alive sensation all afternoon. I was really happy with the decision to skip town.


That evening, I returned downtown wearing green, wolfed a poutine, and escaped yet again to my friends' condo gathering to watch the fireworks. To get there, I wove through swarms of (mostly intoxicated) people and fielded many harassing comments, some of which actually frightened me. At the small gathering, though, more wonderful and kind company. Blackberry sangria and maple leaf cupcakes did not hurt the kindness vibe.


After rejoining my cottage friends for a quick post-fireworks cocktail, I meandered home through the police riot squads, paramedics, girls nearly teetering off of their platforms, and mounds of poutine and street meat litter. As usual, the aftermath of celebration, perhaps more aptly termed rampant consumption, is waste and destruction. Doesn't this beg to be critiqued? Resisted?


So it turns out I don't like Canada Day, and I've become okay with it.