Feminism

The Lure of Online Feminism

Published on by Lisa

I wanted to try an experiment this week, the week that I started a new job.

I wanted to try and disengage from the online world of feminism and refocus that energy into the human interactive relationships I would soon be facing in my new work. After being an active blogger for about three years, it was difficult to do at first. I resisted the urge to obsessively check my blog’s email, comment moderation, and my favorite feminist bloggers as I normally do throughout the day. The rules were strick: 2-3 internet slots a day, no more than 20 minutes each. When you consider correspondance, reading, news, Facebook, listserves, and random recipe searches on Google, 1 hr/day is not a whole lot if you’re an active blogger.

Slowly, though, things got easier as the pace of my job increased.

I work with the MRDD (Mentally Retarded and Developmentally Disabled) population and supervise a staff that works with homes to teach, encourage, and support folks who are trying to live more independent lives. Needless to say, it’s hard work. It’s draining work.

Today, as I watched a table of four clients eat their lunches, I thought about how little I have been online and how removed I felt from “Feminism,” capital F. The news might be breaking something huge and I’m not reading it, or whatever the latest and greatest (or worst, depending on how you see it) IT thing is being talked/written about, I’m not around to read or react to it.

I believe in feminism. I believe in the flaws and all the rights of it. I believe its purpose is multifaceted, but one of the primary faucets of its existence is to be used as a lens for liberation work, a method to view oppressive relationship and overpowering structures that abuse and ignore womyn’s voices.

If I believe that, then how is it that I started to measure how current I felt with “Feminism” because I haven’t blogged in a week? While I am standing in a house filled with women of every size, mobility, and age who are trying to lead independent lives, make their own decisions, and improve their own quality of life — WHY AM I THINKING ABOUT ONLINE FEMINISM?

The truth is that we’re all prone to comforting ourselves and patterning our behaviors to what feels good, complementary, and familiar. The feminist blogosphere, for all of its energies and wondrous capacities, has not yet fused or connected to the “real” world.

The “real” world is a relative phrase, but for me, this week, it was observing and training womyn on how to measure laundry detergent, how to tuck the sheets into their beds, and counting pills for medication.

The “real” feminist in me saw the staff I work with, all women, who are juggling two sometimes three jobs and internships to put themselves through school and make ends meet for their families.

I am drowning in “real” feminist work and have open opportunities to forge relationships with new womyn in my life who only know me as their supervisor.

And yet, I stood in the kitchen wondering what I might have missed in the online world.

ONLINE FEMINISM IS BASED ON ACTUAL LIVED EXPERIENCES

Why look for the second version when the original is staring you in the face?

So, how had I learned that writers and opinionated activists who have their own corners of the internet to speak were more relevant than what this other womyn with oatmeal all over her smiling face had to tell me about her mother?

A lesson for today for all bloggers and readers of feminism:

the moment you begin preferring screens and books to human contact/relationship building and stories, however slight that preference, remind yourself that it’s time for a break.

My Nicaraguan Father: Reflections on Feminism, Letters, and Digital Media

Published on by Lisa
My Nicaraguan Father: Reflections on Feminism, Letters, and Digital Media

Dedicated to Don Manual Montiello

My Nicaraguan father, who I had not seen in eight years, died this week. A man with a heart condition, he fell onto a street, his face purple, and died. He was walking the barrio, our home, Catorce de Junio, in Nicaragua where I used to live.

I don’t know where this piece is going. Like a storm, I sense something brewing. The signs are there: quiet moments (dark clouds), tears (rain), and fear (wind). A perfect writing storm. This time, though, I have no predictable end. Something is needing to come out and so I write. I write. There’s a lot that’s been thrown in the eye of my hurricane. I’m going to try and let it out…

* * *

In feminism, particularly the feminist blogosphere, the word “intersectionality,” is strewn around like a popular masthead. For those unfamiliar with this term, in a nutshell, it’s a nugget word of the third wave of feminism, a term to explain one’s ability/responsibility to see/understand the complex layers of oppression and severity. It is a theory by I don’t even know who that suggested we look at the varying intersecting locks of lived experience. To put it bluntly, it says that the middle of the wheel is braced together by several spokes. Look at the spokes, it suggests. Consider the spokes.

I’m not the best person to talk about intersectionality. I’m not the best person to talk about intersectionality because I was introduced to it in the feminist blogosphere and the way I have observed its lack of application – its sore failure – makes me a non-believer in the term. I just don’t see any difference “intersectionality” has made in the lives of womyn offline.

My momma raised me to see the soul, not spokes.

* * *

February 11, 2009
I am in a coffee shop. I see a sign: Imported from Nicaragua.

A small thump hits my gut.

* * *

March 2000
“Buenas dias, Dona Adelia! Como estas usted?” I called out to a neighbor while I was walking in the barrio. It is a hot morning in Managua.

My friend Julia who was walking beside me smiled as Dona Adelia opened her mouth and fired off a response so quick and urgent, I blinked in surprise.

Julia translated for me, “She said, ‘well, that depends. Do you want to know how I am doing economically, physically, emotionally, mentally, politically? It depends.’”

I’ve thought about Dona Adelia’s reply to my simple greeting for nine years. She is a woman, elderly in her seventies, who loves people with so much strength that I pray I am like her when I mature into my later years.

One moment. One response. To my face. And just like that. I understood “intersectionality,” or the multiple intricacies of being. Language, culture, soul. There are so many layers to people; so many things that affect how we perceive one another.

I didn’t need a theory. I needed a teacher.

* * *

The failure of intersectionality is not surprising. Most correlate the term as a method to measure oppression and study its affect on diverse individuals, as if there is a way to truly trace the insidious and camouflaged roots of societal and social demons.

What troubles me about this method is its obsession with oppression and lack of focus on liberation. From what I have observed, most feminists want to understand the surreptitious spreading and practice of oppression – they want to understand that justice is unevenly distributed because of skin color, race, ethnicity, physical and mental mobility, religion, citizenship, class, education, property, age, sexual orientation, gender, and sex – but they don’t want to listen when it comes to transforming the world for liberation.

If liberation means a radical, and by radical I am referring to the Latin origin of radical meaning ROOT, transformation of the world, we need feminists to become more visionary. And fast.

Intersectionality is useless if it merely raises your consciousness but does little else. Ok, so YOU’RE enlightened. Great!

Now what?

The life of intersectionality is brief. It’s a theory. Nothing more.

* * *

April 2000

Don Manual has a heart condition. Somewhere, in the maze of awkward translation, I learn his quiet demeanor cloaks a very gentle man. After a long trip to Bluefields, the eastern coast of Nicaragua, I return to my home in the barrio. Once in my room, exhausted, I begin unpacking.

Don Manual walks into my room.

Puzzled and a bit anxious because he has never entered my room before, I turn to face him.

Just a few pebbles of his words were caught in my translation. There are two things I remember, “Allegra. Muy allegra.”

He was happy to have you back home. He was relieved. Others translated the conversation for me later.

And then I remember that he covered his heart, his weakened and diseased heart, as he spoke. He softly tapped it as he told me he was glad I was home. Then he and his eyes smiled into me and turned away.

* * *

Thursday, February 12, 2009

I am nearing the end of my three month writing stint at Bitch magazine. The experience has taught me so much about writing and confidence, I find it difficult to translate it to those who do not engage in writing practice.

Recently, I wrote a piece about Nadya Suleman, the woman who recently birthed octuplets and is now a mother of fourteen. In my article, where I raised questions about the issue of choice outside the realm of abortion, I asked that we engage in critical and rich discussion but to do so without berating any one woman or a segment of population of women.

That didn’t go over well.

The feedback and comments ranged from, “I think this has nothing to do with race, I never even thought of the idea until people like you to inject race into the subject to cause controversy,” to suggesting that I “become a conservative,” to “What a goddamned shithead.”

Simultaneously, I received an email from Alex Blaze, the managing editor at The Bilerico Project, who let me know that there had been good news concerning a post I had written two months ago about Agnes Scott College, a private all woman’s college, allowing a degrading and anti-feminist movie film on its grounds. The update alerted me to heightened policies the college had adopted in response to the online noise generated by senior, Louisa Hill.

I learned about Agnes Scott debacle from Jess Hoffman, a visionary friend and co-founder of make/shift magazine, where I am a section editor. It was through her that I heard about it, connected with The Bilerico Project, and helped create some online shaking.

The result: not perfect, but improved policies.

While the situation at Agnes Scott College is not the most ground breaking news or the most inspiring story, it gave credence to the power of blogging and communities working together. As Blaze wrote in his email, “Blogging can improve the world!”

Indeed.

It can also destroy.

These are the opportunities before some of us. And there are many sides to align yourself with. What do you choose?

Do you align yourself with the offense, berating women like Nadya Suleman, defining what is right and good for a woman of controversy and poor decision, but nonetheless a women in the name of feminism and “liberalism”? Or the side that tries to outreach and make one corner of the universe slightly better than it was yesterday?

It’s not that simple, I know, and the situation calls for reflection.

But is calling her a “shithead” how we move forward?

* * *

Thursday, February 12
A friend is driving me through Cedar Lee, an area of independent theaters and coffee shops. A wide sidewalk is cleared for winter, but in the summer, Christina says, the restaurants have great outdoor seating.

Out of nowhere, a thought slips through my window

I haven’t talked to my Nicaraguan family in years.

And here is where they have five dollar theater tickets with all you can eat popcorn.

I haven’t even thought about them in months. What happened to when I used to think of them everyday?

You’ll love it here, Lisa.

Raquel would be…my G*d, twenty-one years old now. They wouldn’t want to hear from me. What would I say anyway? My Spanish has depleted so much. Let it go.

* * *

Both on and offline, it’s not our race, class, ethnicity, sexual orientation or any other spoke on the wheel of “intersectionality” that divides us. It’s our objectives. It’s how we measure liberation and what we are willing to do with our privileged lives in the name of transformation. The differences in our objectives are as transparent as our URLs. Some are here for fun and professional advancement. Those of us who are here for more than business are here to question the systems that contort liberation.

Is there any wonder that there is a divide?

For me, there is only one question: what are you willing to do for liberation?

If it begins and ends with blogging, then don’t bother reading the rest of this piece.

If you say you want a world without rape, what are you doing to transform binary definitions of sexuality, relationships, and love?
If you say you want a country of peace, what cost is paid by other countries?
If you say you don’t know the answers, what are you doing to rectify that?

These are the questions before us. What are you doing?

* * *

The face of G*d for me is the liberation of those in pain, myself included. My definition of feminism is not a worded explanation, limited by my westernized and elitist tongue. It is a drive, dare I write spiritual drive, to do what I can, when I can, and make one thing, or as many things, better for another human being born in my lifetime, on our planet, this place we all call home. With all the mystery and fear in my body, soaked in ethnocentric alcohol, I sober my life by sitting on the edge of my bathroom sink and pulling the bathroom mirror into my face.

I look up.

* * *
February 16, 2009

I open an email letting me know about a post raising questions about feminism and digital colonialism.

* * *

For the most part, generation X has been the largest population which the digital age has watered. We’re the first generation of this “new media” and its shifted the way we think, communicate, and organize. It’s even changed our dreams.

As little girls, I would bet those who journaled and dreamed about writing imagined hard cover books or putting pen to physical paper; their name in print.

Blogging has ushered in a new alternative to traditional publishing and while it has created this avenue for information exchange and sharing, it has also created a monster. We, privileged activists and writers with the most immediate form of communi/gratifi/cation at our disposal, gladly reap the surface benefits of new media and, I fear, are satiated by that. We’ve yet to fully incorporate a feminist energy and discourse to digital media. Bloggers, writers, web-users have yet to fully embrace the power and responsibility to transform knowledge, journalism, and expression and bring it to a feminist standard of acceptability and practice.

We’re working on that. We’re still debating and defending privilege.

There has been no sustainable on-going and consistent effort to confront the communication patterns of womyn/gender-centered/feminist blogs or dialogue ethos. Who has time to create that analysis, to write about it? To try and put a lasso on a thousand bucks gone wild?

We’re either too busy feeding our children, finding sustainable employment, caring for our ourselves and loved ones, and making ends meet to commit to dismantling the ways blogging and new media perpetuate the existing kyriarchal systems. It is, after all, a flick of a hand to turn off our screens or we can simply walk away.

Or we’re too busy maximizing our latest idea to utilize blogging as a means to further our professional careers.

There’s a pull in two legitimate different directions that leaves the middle empty. What’s left? The space of blogging. THIS space that we say is the resting pulse of the “women’s movement.” All of it goes unchecked, with no accountability, no rules. We can call each other out, but in the end, if you think it, you can write it. We obviously don’t want a hierarchy or limitations on our speech, right? It’s as if we have lost the capacity to freely explore options and conversation, we don’t know how to dictate basic premises of decency on how to relate to one another over lines of difference.

And so the cyclic, vicious feminist problems continue. The conferences are divided, the blog wars are revisited, the colonialism/racism/classism/capitalism/ everything-ism continues in its original score. Actually, I think this screenplay was written decades ago by our ancestors. We’re all just assuming their roles.

(Who wants to play Sojournor Truth?)

* * *

February 16, 2009
I receive an email telling me of Don Manual’s death just hours after he had passed. I read the words and am confused.

My emails are usually about the latest happenings in the activist world, listserves I love, writers I follow, blogs I cherish, and updates from friends. This message was nestled in the midst of RSVPs to my 30th birthday party. Requests from writers to blog about a spreading story. The message startled me, but not more than my own reaction.

My heart continues to audibly break with each letter I type to admit this: momentarily, I didn’t even recognize Don Manual’s name.

That is how removed I have been.

For a moment, I did not recognize the name of someone with whom I lived, had spoken, formed some of my brightest moments of life, embraced, and breathed.

* * *

That night I muster every strength I could to get over my own guilt and self-consciousness.

I call my family in Nicaragua.

With no fallback of translators, my mind rewinds itself to its rusted Spanish files, long put away.

I speak first with my sister, Lynette, who now has three children. When I lived with her, she only had one son. She is mopping and I can hear her smile into the phone.

Her father just died and she smiles at me.

“Necessitas, Lisa, regressar a Nicaragua pronto.”

You need to return to Nicaragua, soon.

Yo se.

I know.

I sputter out my condolences, whatever is left in my vocabulary and try to twist it, try to offer whatever G*d-awful limiting words that remain and tell her how much I miss her and will always miss her father. How grateful I am for all that they gave me.

All I can make out from her response is “triste.”

Sad.

She asks if I want to talk to her mother.

Dona Marta.

I remember why I was so afraid to speak to my host mother. She was soft spoken and that made translation even more difficult. I am shaking inside.

Unearthing itself after nine years, my intense desire to articulate the depth of my emotions runs again into the language barrier and I feel ashamed at my lack of Spanish practice.

It’s not just about language. Language, as once famously stated, is the house of being. It is a bridge of culture, a valor of heartfelt effort and humility. It’s not just about communication; it’s about respect and offering.

Her voice is barely audible and I want to weep in her arms. Or have her weep in mine.
Neither would happen.

I tell her that she and her entire family is always in my heart.

We have deep pauses of silence. I let them rest between us knowing the loss of her lifelong spouse cannot be explained in language.

We communicate what we can. We communicate love.

* * *

There comes a time to revisit our promises and commitments. We are forever in need of smoothing them over, enhancing the details for better fits.

I remember promising to write my Nicaraguan family. I said those words. In English. They understood.

I promise.

But I broke that promise, repeatedly.

I broke that promise to write when I decided to put it off and write about what I knew – feminism – instead of a what I needed to write, letter to my family. For every post on this blog, now past seven hundred, I allowed myself to slip away into what I knew was so dangerously easy about life in the United States: living individualistically.

Oh, I’ve learned how to be a married activist, a warrior poet salivating after Audre Lorde. I’ve written letters to lovers, biological family, posts, articles, and even begun book projects. I’ve collaborated with strangers who became confidants and healed broken relationship.

“Individualism” is no longer about singularity, it’s about living in a disconnected state, where we are accountable only to those who are like us, agree with, nod with us. Nuanced individualism is serving not just ourselves but only those we choose to be in our communities, those whom we deem supportive and relative, staunchly defining who we want and gives us what we need.

Gifts of baking pans, trinkets, and money mean nothing without connection and in some realms of life, attempted communication trumps clarity. I wanted to communicate safely, with a translator so they knew precisely what I meant and they understood me. I forgot that tapping one’s heart in gesture can convey more about concern and relief than words.

I waited for perfect communication. That day never comes.

In my subconscious fear of not wanting to be uncomfortable or reminded that I lazily let my Spanish subside, I never wrote a letter. Not one. I didn’t want to be reminded of my helplessness, the nightmarish panic I had of not being able to connect transnational experiences with my own damn life. I didn’t want to look at the clock and see that I had allowed so much time to pass.

And in the customary selfish rape of wandering foreign lands merely for one’s own enlightenment, I took my “enlightenment” and applied it to my own life.

I never wrote one letter.

I’ll set up a feeble social network online and write flip responses on the digital walls of high school acquaintances who have taught me nothing, but I won’t confront my own fear of inadequacy and contact a community, a family who gave me shelter and food.

Gringa.

And for those who do not understand the significance letters hold, paper that’s traveled the winds of ocean, just know that it delivers more than anything that can be conveyed in language. It conveys that they, the recipients of the letter, are remembered in a walled country that makes you forget.

* * *

Feminism is not about self-flagellation or “saving” the world, or even piping ourselves up by saying we have the capacity to do so. But I do believe it is about living an authentic existence that challenges our comforts, our talents, and agenda. I believe that we, those with unspeakable luxuries that we cannot put in context because few other nations can even compare to our excessiveness, must be held accountable to our neighbors. Not out of obligation, but out of love.

We are accountable. In our lives. In our letters. In our writings. In our blogs.

As I repeatedly learn in painfully elementary ways, “Not everything is about you.”
Your guilt. Your discomfort. Your understanding. Your. Your. Your.
“I don’t feel like engaging.”
“I don’t want to be attacked or misunderstood.”
“I don’t want to risk.”
“I don’t want to put myself out there.”
“I’ve earned this.”
“I already explained myself.”
“I need to defend myself.”
“I don’t know what you expect me to do.”

I. I. I.

If you can, unstick yourself.

Move beyond your self-consciousness.

We are accountable. To someone.

Without accountability, without liberating practices for all, there is no “Movement.”

Only noise.

Find someone to whom you are accountable.

Mother of Fourteen, Nadya Suleman

Published on by Lisa

Nadya Suleman, the mother who recently gave birth to Octuplets, has recently launched her own website. The website which says, “We thank you for the love and good wishes sent to us from around the world. The octuplets arrived on 1/26/09. They are all healthy and growing stronger by the day.”

Of course, as indicated by the previous post about this issue, there are many issues to debate and discuss in this woman’s choice to undergo invitro fertilization as a single parent with a mother who describes her as a little crazy and “not capable” of taking care of fourteen children.

And so the debate continue, I realized yesterday when I ordered a hot chocolate yesterday at a local Panera Bread and couldn’t help but hear an outburst at a nearby table, “And how about that women with fourteen kids? What is she thinking?” It’s clear the issue of responsible parenting, class, and race aren’t going away. The debates are even going into an Angelina Jolie look-alike frenzy. (Suleman denies this.)

As healthy as it is to debate, I’ve found the comment sections of sites intriguing. Nadya Suleman is (unconfirmed) a woman a color, possibly of Latino background, without a partner or suffucient resources to raise the kids. Is that the reason why people are “hating?” Becuase they don’t see her being able to do this?

But when we see entertainment like (old school) Just the Ten of Us, or reality shows like John and Kate Plus Eight, or Cheaper By the Dozen, as Kenny Darter points out, we think it’s pretty hilarious when White families, who have the means, have a busload of kids. But if a person without a reality show or partner chooses to, it’s deemed everything but good.

It is entirely understandable to oppose this woman’s decision. There are clear reasons why and the safety and well-being of the children are priority. However, without sufficient information, except reports from gossip magazines as to how she is going to move forward, I am hesitant to predict that these children are doomed or are going to undergo profound trauma. I certainly hope she gets on her feet to do the best she can and live beyond her own decision to have fourteen children. She has a mountain to climb, fourteen to be exact, but she has legs.

What I find interesting, though, is that throughout history and the world, there are women exactly like Suleman who raise their multitude of children with much less media and attention than Nadya Suleman. There are women who are neither scorned or criticized for the number of children they have. They are ignored. The reaction our country has had to Nadya Suleman confounds me. On one hand, it’s portrayed as a medical miracle, but the backlash is calling her crazy and irresponsible. The majority of those reports came out after her financial and marital status were leaked. When we see “single” and “bankrupt,” she’s selfish. Focusing soley on Suleman and not the children, would we call her crazy, would we criticize her CHOICE if we found out that she had a millionaire’s bank account? Or if she had a husband who was a CEO? Probably not, or at least, the criticism wouldn’t be so severe.

So what does that say about who gets to have large families? You can and have the freedom, only if you are financially capable? Is and should there be a parallel relationship between resources (house, job, daycare, health care, partner, family support, etc) and number of offspring? Because if there is some sort of invisible rule about class and birthing, then we need to examine it, not just in context to Nadya Suleman, but how that invisible rule extends to all women and families, including those outside our country’s lines. Do we have the same reaction to an unmarried Nicaraguan woman who naturally gave birth to seven? How is your reaction different? How is it similar?

The number of children a woman has – either intentional or not – is a layered issue, and often ethnocentric toward western ideals of a two parent unit with resources and health care. It is an opportunity to delve into your own perceptions of the relationship between freedom, choice, resources, and parenting. I just hope that there remains a space to richly discuss the issues that have surfaced without berating another woman or a population of women in the process.

Cross-posted at Bitch Magazine.

An Open Letter to the Feminist Blogosphere

Published on by Lisa

Dear Feminist Bloggers,

I have to confess, when the Weblog Awards come around, I am usually overwhelmed with the number of how many blogs I DON’T read even though, during the other 364 days of the year, I usually feel like I spend too much time reading other blogs and not working on my own.

Well, this year is no exception. Plenty of great writing and creating going on among the nominees.

I read The Bilerico Project, which is up for Best LBGT Blog. There’s not just one thing that I admire about this place, it’s just a great group of folks; incisive, provocative, smart. Serve me up some Bilerico anytime.

I’m a pretty big fan of Bitch, PhD which is under Best Very Large Blog. Bitch, PhD is a terrific corner of the internet. Bold, fierce, kind of like watching a rocket first thing in the morning. That’s how I feel about this site.

Under Best Hidden Gem, I am hands down for Zuky. Kai Chang is a great supporter of many women of color bloggers and he is ALL about quality writing, quality editing, quality everything. In my mind, Zuky is the blog I give a tender hug every time I read it. It ranges from sobering to free flowing music to jack in the box howling laughter.

Black Women, Blow the Trumpet is up under Best Small Blog and I gotta hand it to BWBTT, it deserves every vote. I began reading a few short months ago and am impressed with the overall energy of the writing. Not to mention, BWBTT is a community builder kind of blog. I often spot her leaving encouraging comments around the internets.

Not that Dooce needs any more press, but under Best Diarist, Dooce took my vote purely because I’ve read her off and on and watched her make her jump into internet fame and make a bucket of money along the way. She’s probably the only mainstream-ish blog I read. What I appreciate most is that she makes me honestly laugh out loud and not LOL kind of fake way, but in a LAUGH OUT LOUD kind of way.

Feministe has a nice round-up of pointing out the “feminist” blogs and offers a guide as to whom may want to throw your weight behind and, of course, it always begs the questions, “What makes a blog feminist?” Out of the blogs out there, what criteria makes a blog feminist? What separates a “feminist” blog from a gender-centered “liberal” blog? What criteria do you have for what makes a writer a “feminist?”

Then, I got thinking about the larger blogosphere and the power of the internet. Is the feminist blogosphere any different than other blogosphere? Do we have any joined purpose or any points of unity?

As soon as I asked myself that, horrid memories of past blog wars and division came to memory. For sanity’s and this post’s sake, I shirked them off quickly and got back to the questions filling my brain:

Is there any organization among feminist blogs, other than category, which typically function more for division and ease of surfing? Do we, feminist bloggers, agree on ANYTHING? Or are we in existence the same way, say, culinary blog are – informative for their audiences, community building for those seeking alliances, challenging those who want to learn? Those are all fine purposes, but, I can’t help but feel more responsibility than that. Am I alone? As a feminist BLOGOSPHERE, do we hold any form of higher purpose for women’s lives? Or do we get wrapped up in our individually wrapped fem-brands and remain set in our preferred ways of blogging? As a collective, can and should the feminist blogosphere strive to serve a unified deeper purpose than others? Is that even possible?

Is this a balanced comparison?

Feminisms = Improving Women’s Lives

AS

Feminist Blogosphere = Improving Women’s Lives

Is the feminist blogosphere a functioning arm of feminism? I’d say YES. How many educators are using the feminist blogosphere in the classroom, community discussions, printing off unknown feminist poets, forwarding the pseudonym-ed writers for the purpose of learning and activism? Countless.

How many lives are improved because of the feminist blogosphere? My life has certainly been enriched by hundreds of writers and philosophers ranging in topic from feminist jurisprudence to feminist disability rights to recipes for financially restricted women and their families. I’ve found a community of writers offline because of the feminist blogosphere.

How many lives OUTSIDE the feminist blogosphere, outside internet circles, are improved by our writing and work? We could insert the “seed” argument here. (“You never know how many seeds you have planted and how they’ve grown to influence someone’s actions and how that action spurred another and…” AKA – the silent and rarely witnessed domino effect.) And I’m not proposing that we start a cyber crusade, bathed in US colonialism, of “helping” those we deem marginalized. I’m simply asking a question: Is the feminist blogosphere improving, or striving to improve, ALL women’s lives?

How easy it is to forget the priviliege of writing, reading, and keeping a blog. It comes with time, access, and security. How might the feminist blogosphere be informed if we could find a way to make media available to the women of Gaza right now? Or if we could read about the best diarist of incarcerated feminists? Would those win any awards? Maybe “Most Courageous,” or how about “Largest Risk Takers?” or “Most Needed?” I’d love to see the feminist blogosphere identify not just the worthy blogs that deserve recognition, but actually work together on just one thing. We’re bloggers. We create a form of media. Where is our collective media justice? Is that too tall of an order?

The feminist blogosphere remains immeasurable in its richness and it is a privilege to be a part of a community of bloggers who are informed by feminism and write for therapeutic, educational, and activist reasons. However, I contend that we, as a messy, loveable, crazy community, can always do better. And should.

I remain, blogfully yours,

Lisa

Cross-posted at Bitch Magazine

Best Feminist Picks of 2008

Published on by Lisa

If you believe in celebrating human made measurements of time, then New Year’s Eve is one of the most exciting days of the year. Beside the usual parties and rallies in the street, it’s a time of reflection, when many take the opporutunity to do life inventory and take vows to better themselves, their lives, and environment.

One of my favorite things to do at the end of the year is to put an arbitrary measurement on feminist news; events or people that changed me or the feminist movements for the better. We all know it’s not difficult to find the bad, so, I wanted to take the opportunity to showcase the brightest beams of light, the things that made a feminist smile wider this calendar year. There were many great moments in a feminist reviewed year, but here are my top three best feminist moments of 2008:

3. Beginning the Obama Era

There’s no question that this campaign year was historical. Most of mainstream media focused on the fact that Barack Obama is the first president-elect of color. And while that certainly brings a rush of excitement to my cheeks, there are underlying hopes I hold for the next president that surge past the color of his skin or multicultural background. I’m more fascinated by his intellect and the possibility of having a president who reads and LISTENS to both sides. Who knows what might happen to the Global Gag Rule or the Hyde Amendment now that we may have a leader who may understands that the not all issues are black and white, and need to be analyzed with a compassionate ear toward ALL women.

I’m not conflating Barack Obama with a miracle worker. I believe that leaders of our communities – local and national – prove wise when their ears are open to all sides. So far, Obama has shown a glimmering promise to be an advocate for the people; someone who believes in comprehensive sex education and sees that spending 1.5 billion dollars on abstinence-only programs may not be the best plan
for preventing unplanned pregnancies and reducing abortion rates by first educating our youth. The future looks slightly better with Obama in the Oval Office. Here’s hoping.

2. VIVA LA Independent Media

There’s nothing that spells awesome more than feminist driven independent media. If you want to take a look at 2008 and search for evidence of feminism going strong, look no further than this very foundation of B-Word that surpassed their goals and succeeded in their fund raising. Same can be said for In Other Words, a feminist bookstore in Oregon, which recently raised enough money to keep their doors open.

While their futures remain uncertain, one message is abundantly clear: when organized and in need, feminist media can not only survive, but THRIVE during economically difficult times. It begs the question: how and why is that? How in these times do these organizations push through and successfully fund raise?

Perhaps for US media consumers, times of financial crisis bring rare opportunities to recognize the valuable from the dispensable, the educational from the unnecessary. When push comes to shove, most feminist consumers of media identify independent media as a necessary and vital arm of the feminist movements. Without Bitch, ColorLines, Make/Shift and other independent publications, the stories of women are shoved further into dark corners. Emerging journalists, poets, and writers would have fewer opportunities to express and document the world from their fresh eyes without these outlets. Without In Other Words, Women and Children First, or feminist bookstores, the spaces for activists, musicians, community groups, and writers shrink even more. The tales of growth and sustainability of these independent publications and book stores give testimony that despite hard times, feminists support avenues of independent communication and want to hear the voices outside of mainstream media.

1. Melissa Harris-Lacewell

It’s hard for me to pick just one, but if I’m hard-pressed, here’s my opinion: the best moment for US feminists came from the undeniable Melissa Harris-Lacewell. If you’re wondering who exactly this woman is, well, let me refresh your memory. Almost a year ago, in January of 2008, the year started off with a feminist bang in a debate heard around the world. Gloria Steinem, a pioneer of second-wave feminism and “icon” in mainstream feminism, dipped her toes in a political pool to go swimming with Melissa Harris-Lacewell, an Associate Professor of Politics and African American Studies at Princeton University, a powerhouse of legal and political vernacular. This debate was aired shortly after Steinem wrote an article in the New York Times entitled, “Women Are Never Front-Runners,” in which she wrote about the limitations and division of Hillary Clinton’s gender and the unifying effect of Obama’s race. Steinem endorsed Hillary Clinton in her Op-Ed and called for unity:

The caste systems of sex and race are interdependent and can only be
uprooted together. That’s why Senators Clinton and Obama have to be
careful not to let a healthy debate turn into the kind of hostility
that the news media love. Both will need a coalition of outsiders to
win a general election. The abolition and suffrage movements progressed
when united and were damaged by division; we should remember that.

Harris-Lacewell – prepared, articulate, and calm – carefully and thoroughly challenged and ripped Steinem’s arguments about race and gender and dismounted the feminist icon’s with quotes such as this:

What I do agree with is that we ought to be in coalition. But I think
we’ve got to be in coalition on fair grounds. Part of what, again, has
been sort of an anxiety for African American women feminists like
myself is that we’re often asked to join up with white women’s
feminism, but only on their own terms, as long as we sort of remain
silent about the ways in which our gender, our class, our sexual
identity doesn’t intersect, as long as we can be quiet about those
things and join onto a single agenda. So, yes, I absolutely agree, we
must be in coalition, but it must be a fair coalition of equals.


Melissa Harris-Lacewell spoke more fervently and convincingly about the twisted agenda of mainstream feminism as any other feminist of 2008 (as I read or came across) in the US and brought to the table a voice so clear that it rocked the boat of feminists everywhere as they debated between Clinton and Obama. For that, and for the multitude of work she has done as a writer, professor, and advocate, Melissa Harris-Lacewell was the *best* moment and feminist for me in 2008.

Who or what moment made 2008 a great feminist year for you?

A Time for Rape, A Time for Voice

Published on by Lisa

Like so many others, I’ve been overwhelmed with December.

It’s not just the holidays, but the buzz and speed of the year ending, the economic crisis, family gatherings, and holiday obligations all combine to make December one big TO DO list.

I thought about what I wanted to write about this week and began reading some of my favorite feminist bloggers for inspiration. As I clicked on my usual suspects, a surprise settled over me, “Is there a reason why so many blogs are posting about rape?” My brain, in lightning speed, reviewed the month themes and reasoned that September promotes Women’s Health Awarness, October is Domestic Violence Awareness month, March is Women’s Herstory month, and April is Sexual Abuse Awareness month.

The only December theme I could think of was World Aids Day, which was December 1.

I couldn’t think of any direct tie to sexual assualt.

Was there a reason I was finding so many posts about rape?

As a sexual assault advocate and educator, a field I’ve explored for several years, I quickly felt shame as realized I had forgotten a very simple lesson about sexual violence: there is no specified time for sexual assault awareness, every day is a day of rape for women in the world. Why should there be an allotted month to focus solely on this issue when it happens every few seconds of every day, holiday or not, December or July, sexual assault occurs. Why should I not be fiercely glad that on any given day, a no-name day like today, I can find this issue being discussed with resolve, strength, and bravery. There is no time for rape. It happens in the brightness of days and darkness of night. I’ve heard the stories from my friends and listened to strangers in emergency rooms before undergoing a rape kit. Everyday, too, is a time to heal and a time to speak for someone, somewhere in the world. In the age of accessible media making for everyday women – the face of sexual violence – we are capable of understanding more than ever the complicated and painful road of admittance, healing, and sharing one’s experience for the world to hear.

I quickly reminded myself that I should not be so worried if I had “missed something” when I read so many posts about violence against women in one day. I am thankful that so many brave women are utiliizing media to get their stories out, creating voice when there was once silence, and committing to put an end to rape.

Joan Kelly and Brownfemipower have their say (and thank goodness they do)

Latoya at Racialicious: The Not Rape Epidemic

–>(H/T to Sylvia)

Womanist Musings posts: I Cried As If I Was His Daughter


Feministing discusses a disturbing video about a cartoon, The Rapeman



Crossposted at Bitch Magazine

Sean Avery and Jon Favreau: Comparing the NHL and the Obama Administration

Published on by Lisa

Two recent public incidents have caught my eye and I’m stuck on one question someone asked me, “What do you think is appropriate punishment?”

Last week, NHL player, Sean Avery, came under fire after commenting to the press and making a disparaging comment about former girlfriends who are now in relationships with other NHL players:

“I just want to comment on how it’s become like a common thing in the
NHL for guys to fall in love with my sloppy seconds. I don’t know what
that’s about, but enjoy the game tonight.”

He is referring to ex-girlfriend actress Elisha Cuthbert is reportedly now dating Dion Phaneuf of the Calgary Flames. Another former girlfriend of Avery, model Rachel Hunter is reportedly now seeing another NHL player, Jarret Stole of the Los Angeles Kings.

Avery, with a history of making inappropriate remarks to stir controversy was suspended for six games and has been described as a “disturber, an agitator” by Barry Melrose, ESPN NHL analyst.

Even more recently, the chief speechwriter of our President-elect, 27 year old Jon Favreau, has made his own headlines when a picture of him was displayed on Facebook that showed the newly minted talent groping the right breast of a life-size cutout of the new Secretary of State, Hillary Rodham Clinton. In the picture, there is a friend tilting a beer to her lips, offering a kiss, and grasping the top of the cutout’s hair, all together disturbing and disasterous.

These two separate incidents are, in one sense, hardly newsworthy when you consider the severity of the actions: offensive statements and thoughtless sexist actions caught on camera. But what makes these kinds of incidents so compelling is the reaction of the public and the organizations they represent. To date, Avery was suspended for six games and Favreau, according to the Washington post apologized to the former First Lady, but received no punishment for his boorish pose. Even more maddening is that Clinton camp simply called it good-natured fun and Clinton is “pleased to learn of Jon’s obvious interest in the State Department, and is currently reviewing his application,” despite her reign on the sexist parade the past two years.

So, let me make this clear in my head: the NHL suspends Avery for his disrespectful comments toward women (albeit, he had already established a history and his reputation preceded him) but the Obama administration has nothing to say. Clinton herself, who rightfully pointed out the sexism spewed on her during her campaign trail, has now gone cold on calling out sexism and sings pleasure of his application to the State Department. Favreau, the leading mind behind Obama’s public vernacular merely hangs his head as he is carded the newest “Facebook victim” and nothing more.

The lack of any kind of response about the Favreau incident is off-putting. Which brings me to the question: What is the appropriate response for offensive behavior done off working hours but contradict the image what you work for? Does the punishment fit the crime? In Avery’s case, yes. He reportedly had been warned in the past and to carefully watch his mouthy steps. Favreau though, with all of this verbal sophistication, looks like he will not even receive a tap on his once roaming right hand. If firing him is not the correct measure, then what? Suspending him for six speeches? I don’t think so, but his thoughtlessness warrants something in between losing his job and Clinton’s spokesperson sweeping it under the rug.

Momentarily putting aside the commendable and rare response of the NHL, the sad reality of these two incidents is not the six-game suspension or public shaming of “Favs.” The maddening component of these behaviors is how easy it is to dismiss sexism, however public or lewd. Any weekend in any bar – glorified city or unknown small town – on any given Saturday night gathering, you can find an Avery or Favreau disrespecting women either in word or gesture. The most common character though is the person who makes light of it all; you can always find a Philippe Reines nonchalantly waving it off as funny or a trivial matter.

I just never thought I’d ever have to compare the NHL to the Democratic party for their reactions to sexism and then applaud the former for taking some form of action. At the very least, they recognized it as unacceptable and sent a stiff penalty to Avery with a kindergarten lesson attached, “That’s not right and you can’t say something like that.”

And since the Dems seem to be suddenly ignoring the impact of a sexist action gone internet crazy, I take it upon myself to give a kindergarten message made especially for Jon Favreau, “Stay in line and keep your hands to yourself.”

Cross-posted at Bitch Magazine.

Black Friday Feminism

Published on by Lisa

Now, before anyone thinks that I am pro-recession, pro-depression, or anti-prosperity, let me squash those thoughts right now. As an American citizen and feminist, I recognize that the economy is run by consumers and the face of the global market largely depends on the flourishing of the US economy.

That being said, I offer this: Maybe this is an excellent time for US Americans to experience a financial crisis. Maybe there are some gains to be made in this difficult time which cannot be measured in the Dow Jones or home buying rates.

Black Friday is called Black Friday because it signifies when business companies are supposed to go into the black, showing surplus and profit. Notoriously, this is the day when US citizens open their wallet and begin the costly splurge of commercial gift-giving.

The less news I watch and the more observant I become of the people around me, the more I am convinced that this time of crisis can be an opportunity for many to deepen their lives and rethink the function of material goods in their homes. Perhaps a bit simplistic, but the concept of Americans re-evaluating what is necessary and what is superfluous in their homes sounds fabulous to me. It is common knowledge that US Americans are some of the most wasteful citizens on the planet, nonchalantly eating more than our share of the world’s pie and throwing out any leftovers that weren’t ours to begin with. We are all guilty of this. Our society thrives on convenience, comfort, and “if it’s there, use it up” mentality.

What does this – consumerism, wastefulness, and intentionality – have to do with Feminism?

Alot.

Jessica Hoffman wrote an excellent article that envisioned what a feminist liberation looks like and how systematic powers (racism, economic hierarchy, ableism, sexism) – particularly capitalism – function as a multi-systematic team of oppression. She writes that it is not enough to recognize “intersectionality,” as a lens to view feminists themselves, but also how to analyze the existing oppressive forces around us. She argues, “I do think that resisting capitalism, globally, is integral to antiracist, progressive, social-justice feminisms — that is, the only kinds of feminism I think have a chance of liberating anyone/everyone, and the only kinds of feminism I want to have anything to do with.”

(I’m not going to rehash her points, you really should just go and read yourself.)

I’m not going to go on a rant about capitalism, but I do want to apply a similar analysis to our daily lives, questionable (at best) practices of spending, and the connection to clear(er) feminist practices.

Recently, I viewed a short clip on Momversation which covered how to talk to your children about the financial crisis with your children. Now, don’t get me wrong, it’s a commendable act to to take the proverbial teachable moment to educate your child about good spending habits and helping them understand the power of a dollar.

However, if what it takes for the middle class US mothers to understand that borrowing a book from the local library fares better than purchasing one is a national crisis, then we are in more of a mental crisis than financial.

This crushing tragedy has devastated millions, leaving no redeeming hope in the gross squandering of millions of dollars that vanished the retirement and life-long savings of so many. And there is no delight in watching the belt tighten around those who are already economically anorexic either. However, for those of us who are in positions of power, for those of us who stand to gain by losing our laissez-faire attitudes, these times are an opportunity to sift out the unnecessary in our lives. We need to seize the clarity that comes with living deliberately by choosing what we most desire and transform ourselves into a YES culture. More specifically, we develop a culture that says YES when we truly desire something, not just to lukewarm likings.

There is an art to being selective. It requires forethought, work, and self-knowledge. Living simply is not about living bare. It is not about turning on money or frowning in the face of material goods. If US Americans took a radical moment to choose what they most want from their lives, and this holiday season, this Black Friday, they took this day to go into the surplus of life instead of adding to the profit of companies, our financial constraints would not be so newsworthy. What would we look like if, just for today, instead of Americans dining out, we’d have a few more meals in our homes. Instead of pacing the aisles of Best Buy to upgrade our gadgets, we stroll down our sideswalks and breathe. The “restraints” of a financial crisis can be easily opened into a national pause in our senseless habits of spending. That moment could offer infinite dividends.

It is not enough for feminists to recognize inequality and racism in consumer marketing. It is not enough for feminists to go to libraries instead of popular bookstores. It is not even enough to limit our spending. This is not just about frugality, but about being more vociferous. Being or becoming a thoughtful feminist means growing into somewhat of a prophet. As more and more women become educated, salaried, and employed, their consumeristic power is increasing, as is the advertising directed toward them.

Feminists are and should be the ones to innately sense where we are going when our practices do not match our future goals. A thoughtful feminist is a selective consumer, one who understands the complicated relationship between availability and accessibility, personal fulfillment and superficial enrichment. S/he is the one who most fiercely advocates for a spiritual retreat from the crowds and allows a discriminatory practice of her monied and life investments.

She knows when enough is enough.

Cross-posted at Bitch Magazine.

The Problem: Mainstreaming Feminism

Published on by Lisa



In a recent article in Time magazine entitled, The New Liberal Order, Peter Beinart asserts that “feminism is so mainstream that even Sarah Palin* embraces the term.” 

And with that, Beinart touches on two of the deepest problems of contemporary feminism, mainstreaming and the politics of verbal identity.  Membership, inclusion, participation – whatever term you want to use – is fast becoming a backlash as feminism goes Main Stream.

Can feminism – an ever-evolving charge of empowerment and energy – be mainstreamed?  I say no.  At least, not in its entirety.  One of the most disturbing trends happening is the political mainstreaming of one specific strand of feminism as feminism whole.  This marketing of feminism sells one kind of history, work and concept of female empowerment and, for the right price, conflates mainstream feminism with Feminism (plural). When feminism is explored in media, it is typically referring to White, middle class, educated, US-citizen heterosexual women.  

There are two problems that unfold with this mainstreaming.  The first problem is that it markets feminism as a monolithic group; a group of feminists who desire, believe, and work for the same ideal, which is wildly simplistic and erroneous.  This faux claim of sameness and singularity ignores the diverse work and accomplishments of other feminists who do not fit that category and often go unrecognized. This portrayal of feminism also feeds its gritty US-history of exploitation, racism, neglect, and betrayal of women of color and their communities.

Feminism, as a collective movement, needs to sustain a habit of frequent communication between the movements. Borrowing from astronomy, the Orion is a sisterhood of stars that make up one constellation.  Few can name the individual stars that align the famous celestial sighting, but the sight, in its entirety, is easily recognized by children and sky watchers alike.  Similarly, feminists need to promote and advocate its own plural make-up, and also need to demand that same understanding from reporters, writers, bloggers, educators, and activists. 

Mainstreaming reinforces the one size fits most feminism.  It dissolves the diverse and bright faces of feminism and, in its place, creates an illusion of a bull’s eye, with the middle target being the most significant feminists to focus upon.  The problem with the bull’s eye visual is the outer circles, once again, become the marginalized.  

Not one group of feminists is more important than others, but it would be naive and foolish to ignore the layered oppression of poor women of color, single mothers with no healthcare or access medical treatment, or violence at the border or against transwomen.  Those most vulnerable need not be in the center, but feminists must be able to distinguish between centrality and urgency.  Not one group is more significant, but there are steep levels of urgency and severity.  While needs are different, they’re equally critical to the plural movement of feminism.  Think of the Olympic rings.  You cannot pick one circle without choosing the others as well.  You cannot identify the Mintaka as one star and claim it is the entire Orion belt. Mintaka may be a bright star, it may be necessary, but it’s not the Orion.  It’s merely a part of it.  

The individual over collective mentality breeds another type of ugliness within feminism.  More and more pop culture is featuring Sex and the City with its racist and classist depictions as the playground for empowerment.  And, more and more are agreeing to sell this one type of feminism for personal gain.  bell hooks wrote in Black Women: Shaping Feminist Theory, “As more and more women acquired prestige, fame, or money from feminist writings or from gains from feminist movement for equality in the workforce, individual opportunism undermined appeals for collective struggle.  Women who were not opposed to patriarchy, capitalism, classism, or racism labeled themselves ‘feminist.’ Their expectations were varied.”  

As radical liberation is now confused with sexual freedom, reproductive health is overshadowed by abortion, and the term “women’s interest” is conflated with “fashion,” it opens the door wider to misrepresentation and feminist evasion. On one hand, you have Sarah Palin, a high powered politician who endorses victims to pay for their own rape kit, to claim herself feminist, and then you have other grassroots workers, community organizers, multitasking mothers working two jobs who would never touch the word with a ten foot pole.  Let me be clear, though.  The problem is not filtering out who is “allowed in,”  the problem is that mainstreaming feminism and individual profiting has sacrificed feminism as a collective, its one strength and hope of saving itself from imploding.

The point of feminism is to work for the radical equality and liberation of all.  It does this through the lens of gender that incorporates the other salient factors of race, citizenship, religion, socioeconomic status, education, and sexual preference into analysis.  Feminism is not looking to form a club with prerequisites, but it does necessitate consistency and accountability. The pejorative history of US feminism mandates a rigorous and nuanced exploration of difference. However, to sustain a movement, those differences cannot be in conflict with the goals of equality.  We need to make space for conversation, but we need not make space for kyriarchal practices in the name of inclusion. 

*Palin later rejects the term because she does not want to “label” herself.

Cross-posted at Bitch Magazine and APA for Progress.