a slam, slamming feminism in academia

I try to check out podcasts on rabble.ca as often as possible. Many carry youth activism / feminism tags... good collection of stuff.


So I came across a poetry slam by Shaunga Tagore (read by her sister, Proma Tagore), recorded at the Feminism FOR REAL (edited by the *amazing* activist, Jessica Yee) anthology launch at Rhizome Cafe in Vancouver this April 14th. The work is called "A Slam on Feminism in Academia" and it asks "why did you let me through the doors [of this ivory tower] in the first place if you were just going to turn around and force me out?" Why do we debate in high theory "while barely paid migrant workers prepare lunches for seminars, conferences, forums..."


Her points are fantastic. People with disabilities, those who survive sexual violence, people with familial historical ties to places filled with siege, indigenous students who are forced to use language that erase and colonize their own languages, those who want to learn alternatively through art, etc... Academia doesn't really want these folks. The ivory tower's ideal student doesn't need to be an activist because she's already well-read about it. And she can't talk about positionality without "referencing some article." She's white, straight, able-bodied and minded, and rich. She "luxuriously" enjoys sitting in a corner and reading 900 pages a week with her "fairtrade Starbucks coffee in hand and Lululemon trackpants on ass."


I think the author is brilliant and admirable. Fairly, she asks: your ideal student is not me(!) so why did you let me through these doors!? It's a great point. Minority students fill departmental quotas to collect and secure funding for the program, and then they are squashed by the rigidity of the system that was not made for them. This is horrible and it's about time somebody pointed it out so remarkably and artistically.


This said, parts of Shaunga's slam make me cringe, because to make her point, she describes my privilege. It's effective. I'M SITTING HERE IN YOGA TRACKPANTS WITH FAIRTRADE COFFEE RIGHT NOW. I think I'm FINALLY empathizing with some of my male friends who have been offended by my feminist positions in the past. I have always insisted that in pointing out social stratification, I am not making privileged men out to be the enemy.  I am merely drawing attention to hierarchies, and to do so, I depict privileged bodies and juxtapose these with minoritized ones. But here I sit, listening to the slam against feminism in academia (on repeat) which I want with all my soul to validate, feeling offended.


I'm sure I mostly feel offended because I'm forced to acknowledge my complicity in the rules of an institution that will ultimately serve to push me into an elite social status. If I'm being honest with myself, this is already happening as I gain access to professional and social functions that have strict gatekeeping mechanisms. It's hard, though, to fully embrace the critique because I often feel burdened by the acknowledgement that feminism in academia, even high theory, is itself minoritized by the academy and funding bodies. I'm sprinting on the hamster wheel system that is continually undoing the work I'm trying to do. It's mind-numbing, and is a perfect illustration of the (white...racist?) liberal feminist paradox.


But I think I'm also partly offended because to depict the graduate student donning lululemon pants and sipping lattes in all her glory is to erase the struggle of this. I hope I don't sound like I'm whining. Yes, I have the extreme privilege of being able to enjoy reading 900 pages per week, but this isn't all gravy. Sometimes I sit in tears because the writing makes me feel like an idiot, or the opposite: I realize that my mad love affair with theoretical writing serves to isolate me from the people I love. Further, I'm proud, after sifting through thousands of pages of dense writing per term, to cite and credit the authors I've read. Ironically, I'm resisting the urge to do this throughout this blogpost.


If anything, I think Shaunga's important slam will teach me to nuance my own harsh criticisms so that I don't erase the struggles and traumas of being human. I'm not tied to a history of colonial struggle, nor do I face the threat of my culture being wiped off the planet or the immediate threat of illness. Also, I pass as straight in every sense of the concept, so I get to parade my gender and sexuality in public all the time, and I don't even stop to think about the affect of my celebrated body and perceived orientation on my psyche. I am damn lucky for that, but... I can't help but follow this up by saying that the overwhelming guilt of privilege is unproductive.


This poetry slam was inspirational. I'm inspired to take my research on masculinities further into the trauma faced by men under hyper-masculinism. I'm also inspired to use kind words when installing my critiques into broader theoretical musings. I think this is the key to a united feminist movement, and key to academic reform.