I’m shocked and deeply saddened by Joan Walsh of Salon and other commentors’ focus on Bhutto’s death as purely a political and economic catalyst and how it will affect the US and world politics.
How about the loss of a WOMAN LEADER in a world increasingly polarized between the masculine and feminine? In the Reagan/Thatcher 80s, Bhutto was to me a shining example of how a woman could be both feminine and powerful, both compassionate and effective—and perhaps more importantly, how the people of a culture widely seen as much more sexist and restrictive to women could actually vote a woman into power. It was the beginning of my recognition of women and feminism throughout the world, not just in the US; of my understanding that feminism wasn’t just about middle-class US women being able to have abortions or go to professional universities or play sports or feel safe to walk home at night, but that it also encompassed the other 95% of the world, of which more than half was women. Women in societies where they could be forced to leap upon the funeral pyre of their husbands from forced marriages. Women who could be killed for simply loving—or looking at—the wrong man. Women whose very lives—not to mention their sexual fulfillment and ability to give birth safely—were threatened by female genital mutilation. And all the hundreds of thousands of women who would never be because of female infanticide in the two most populous countries.
Being from the US and having very little exposure to politics in the rest of the world, I was ignorant of the progressive Scandinavian societies where women achieved near equity during Second Wave feminism. I only remember seeing Corazon Aquino and Benazir Bhutto and other “Third World” women coming to power—being VOTED into power—and thinking, what’s WRONG with us? Even Thatcher, although I admired her abilities (but not her politics) was the Iron Lady, the Man with Tits, the Wombless Woman. There was nothing feminine about her.
But Bhutto, ah, Bhutto made leadership seem naturally graceful and feminine and full of compassion. I did not follow her career closely, know little of the circumstances surrounding her falls from power either time—I have no doubt that there were elements of corruption and power-mongering around her governments, as there are around every modern government. I also have no doubt that the same sorts of people who love to hate Hillary Rodham Clinton and Nancy Pelosi and Helen Clark and Arundhati Roy and Wangari Maathi and all the other strong, powerful women in the world today, also hated Benazir Bhutto and did all they could to bring her down in the eyes of the world and her people. The current epidemic of misogyny didn’t spring, fully formed, from the Bush administration or fanatical Islam—it has been quietly (and not so quietly, see Pat Robertson and the late Jerry Falwell) fomenting ever since the beginning of the Second Wave. It certainly existed where Bhutto was popular.
Speaking of fanatical Islam, however, that was another thing that Bhutto did … for me. Here was a worldly, educated, powerful woman, an excellent speaker, obviously capable of drawing crowds of support (of men as well as women) who was a Muslim. Benazir Bhutto was the face of feminist Islam; she gave credence to the stories of Fatima and other powerful Muslim women—mother and wives and daughters of Mohammed who, like the women surrounding Jesus of Nazareth, were instrumental and absolutely essential in spreading the teachings of Islam. I also suspect that, like almost all women, no matter how important or powerful, they also performed many “feminine” tasks such as care-giving and nurturing and cooking and teaching and building community—in short, the tasks that hold the society together. Tasks that our political leaders should focus on more, rather than trying to force change by economic or political (or violent) means. Of course, I don’t mean to say that Benazir Bhutto spent her time baking bread or wiping the fevered brow of her children—although she very well may have; or that those things are more important than leading the pro-democracy movement and calling for the eradication of poverty in Pakistan. But are they really less important? And even though I never saw her do them and don’t know that she ever did them, there was something about her that gave the impression that great leadership could encompass all of those elements of femininity and compassion without losing any of its power.
After September 11 and the Bali bombing, I was living in Australia. Benazir Bhutto seemed to visit frequently, appearing on many forums and political discussion shows, trying to bridge the cultural gap between frightened, suspicious “white” Australians and angry, suspicious Muslim Australians. Despite incidences of violence and racial unrest that broke out in some of the inner cities (more a result of ghettoization and economic disparity, I believe, than actual religious radicalization) Australians seemed by and large to want to believe that the two cultures could live side by side, could intermingle and create a multi-cultural society. It’s a belief that has practical as well as ideological implications for Australia; after all, the island nation’s closest neighbour is the world’s largest Muslim nation: Indonesia. Although right-of-centre (and Bush “arse-licker” as dubbed by the former leader of the opposition) Prime Minister John Howard was able to wrangle two electoral victories out of fear and xenophobia, his adamant support for the “war on terror” and particularly its implications of a “war on Islam” made many Australian uncomfortable and, I hope, had more than a little to do with Howard’s recent humiliating loss.
I digress. I mention Bhutto’s visits to Australia as she seemed at the time one of the few people able to pour oil on those troubled waters of racial and religious tension. She seemed always, to me, the ultimate in feminine grace and power, with a beauty not simply of face and form, but of compassion and wisdom as well. In short, she embodied a contemporary image of the Goddess; in doing so, she gave me hope. Now, my only hope is that her decision to return to Pakistan for the movement, despite the risks she well knew she took, will achieve what she set out to achieve—a step along her home’s road to democracy, another stone in the path to peace.
Friday, December 28, 2007
Thursday, December 27, 2007
Mourning the Loss of Another Great Sister
Today Benazir Bhutto finally succumbed to the assassination that has been stalking her since her return to her native Pakistan. As the first woman leader of an Islamic state, Bhutto greatly impacted both the Muslim world and the world at large. She showed that it was possible to be graceful, feminine, beautiful and yet still be an effective (and clearly threatening to dictatorship and patriarchy) leader.
Her loss is a horrendous blow to the pro-democracy movement in Pakistan; and despite US mouthings of proper outrage and shock, her election and/or the ascendancy of her party to any level of power (whether leadership or opposition) would’ve impeded US control and influence in Pakistan. So, although I would seriously doubt the Bush administration had any sort of direct hand in her murder, I’m sure there are things they could’ve done to make sure she was better protected.
As she was not. In an interview http://edition.cnn.com/2007/WORLD/asiapcf/11/04/bhutto/index.html Bhutto reflected on the first assassination attempt in October, when she had just returned to Pakistan. She questioned the refusal to allow her to have tinted windows in her car, to protect her anonymity; possibly more disturbing, however, were her observations that the street lights were turned off, the length of time it took for the police to file her “complaint”, and the fervid rejection of CIA and/or Scotland Yard forensic assistance in investigating the attack.
Despite the authorities’ obvious indifference to her safety, President Bhutto did not leave her country. By remaining in Pakistan to shore up the pro-democracy movement and as inspiration to her supporters, she showed a fortitude and courage no longer often seen in Western politicians. Like Aung San Suu Kyi, she remained a present, visible figure to give hope to those whose hope may have waned in the recent crackdown.
And like Aung San Suu Kyi, Wangari Maathi, Arundhati Roy, Liberia's Ellen Johnson-Sirleaf, Argentina’s President Cristina Fernandez, President: Michelle Bachelet, New Zealand’s Helen Clark, and the (small but growing) handful of women leaders around the world, Benazir Bhutto gave hope to women working for equality and justice.
As a radical leftist feminist, I find the concept of the headscarf (or burka or hajib) to reflect submission to a patriarchal religious tradition onerous. One of the great leaders of the 20th century, however—and great hero to me—Benazir Bhutto wore the scarf out of respect for the ancient tradition of her people.
She did so with an honor and grace—and a humility not often seen in any major world religious or other tradition today.
In honor of her, her belief in true, grassroots democracy, her commitment to peace, her people and the people of the world, I am honored and humbled to wear a headscarf today.
May Prime Minister Bhutto’s ideals live on.
Her loss is a horrendous blow to the pro-democracy movement in Pakistan; and despite US mouthings of proper outrage and shock, her election and/or the ascendancy of her party to any level of power (whether leadership or opposition) would’ve impeded US control and influence in Pakistan. So, although I would seriously doubt the Bush administration had any sort of direct hand in her murder, I’m sure there are things they could’ve done to make sure she was better protected.
As she was not. In an interview http://edition.cnn.com/2007/WORLD/asiapcf/11/04/bhutto/index.html Bhutto reflected on the first assassination attempt in October, when she had just returned to Pakistan. She questioned the refusal to allow her to have tinted windows in her car, to protect her anonymity; possibly more disturbing, however, were her observations that the street lights were turned off, the length of time it took for the police to file her “complaint”, and the fervid rejection of CIA and/or Scotland Yard forensic assistance in investigating the attack.
Despite the authorities’ obvious indifference to her safety, President Bhutto did not leave her country. By remaining in Pakistan to shore up the pro-democracy movement and as inspiration to her supporters, she showed a fortitude and courage no longer often seen in Western politicians. Like Aung San Suu Kyi, she remained a present, visible figure to give hope to those whose hope may have waned in the recent crackdown.
And like Aung San Suu Kyi, Wangari Maathi, Arundhati Roy, Liberia's Ellen Johnson-Sirleaf, Argentina’s President Cristina Fernandez, President: Michelle Bachelet, New Zealand’s Helen Clark, and the (small but growing) handful of women leaders around the world, Benazir Bhutto gave hope to women working for equality and justice.
As a radical leftist feminist, I find the concept of the headscarf (or burka or hajib) to reflect submission to a patriarchal religious tradition onerous. One of the great leaders of the 20th century, however—and great hero to me—Benazir Bhutto wore the scarf out of respect for the ancient tradition of her people.
She did so with an honor and grace—and a humility not often seen in any major world religious or other tradition today.
In honor of her, her belief in true, grassroots democracy, her commitment to peace, her people and the people of the world, I am honored and humbled to wear a headscarf today.
May Prime Minister Bhutto’s ideals live on.
Friday, December 21, 2007
MY HUSBAND GAVE ME A GOAT!
Well, actually, he gave me a bee hive—he wanted to give me a goat but they were sold out! Neither of the creatures actually comes to me, the “recipient”; rather, it is a program of World Vision that allows people to give life-saving or –improving basic necessities to people in need.
My gift will provide “a family in Somalia or Jerusalem/Gaza/West Bank with a beehive, safety equipment and training so they can produce a source of essential vitamins for their children and generate vital income” www.worldvision.com.au/smiles. As my husband wrote to me, “we have enough ‘stuff’ already. I think that this is a gift that will keep on giving to people who need it. Was going to buy a goat but they've sold out.” As my mother pointed out, it’s probably just as well that it wasn’t a goat—you have to feed a goat; bees feed themselves. Also, it’s hard to steal bees.
But I’m as happy with this gift as I imagine a wife in the developing world would be with an actual goat! I checked the website and World Vision is indeed sold out of goats (for families in the Sudan), donkeys for women in Ethiopia, and sports equipment for children in Papua New Guinea. Still available, however, are school kits for children in Azerbaijan, greening/tree-plantings in many African, South American and SE Asian countries, and Clean and Flush systems to improve hygiene in the Democratic Republic of the Congo.
If you’re of the “teach a person to fish” philosophy, however, there are other ways to contribute to the development of that developing world: Andrew Leonard of Salon today celebrates the repayment (in full) of a micro-loan and feels so enriched by the experience he’s decided to “roll it over and double up on [his] bet”, starting “the How the World Works Christmas tradition.”
http://www.salon.com/tech/htww/2007/12/21/a_very_merry_kiva_christmas/index.html
Although this is all a very “rich white liberal” thing to do—a process about which I’m very critical and cynical—still, it’s one of the few ways that those of us in the first world can contribute to improving the quality of life for the 2/3 of the world who live on less than $2 a day. I sponsor a child in Kenya, I go out of my way to buy Fair Trade goods, I research consumer products to make sure they’re not created by child labor in sweatshops. I don’t shop at WalMart, I don’t buy Nestle, Exxon or Teva, I buy as locally as possible, and I support all manner of pressure on elected officials as well as corporate entities from Bono, Bob Geldof, Oprah, Care2, Angelina Jolie, and every other well-meaning First World liberal trying to alleviate the guilt and actually do some good, for the long term.
I do, however, tend to feel more impassioned about non-human animals; much of my interest in improving the conditions of humans in the developing world comes from my understanding that if the conditions of humans are improved, deforestation and destruction of habitat for the many endangered animals—Mountain Gorillas, Bengal tigers, clouded leopards, jaguars, lemurs, elephants, and dozens, maybe hundreds of others—will be reduced. Humans I reckon play at least some role in much of their own misery. Non-human animals do nothing but act in the way that nature—or circumstances brought about by the interference in nature—forces them to. Such circumstances have also, of course, affected indigenous peoples all over the world; I am quite prepared to recognize the impossible positions of the !Kung of the Kalahari, the Maasai, the Inuit, the Papau New Guineans, the Amazonian tribes, all of whose deep connection to nature places them between protecting the natural world of which they are part, and surviving in the face of the onslaught of Western “civilization”. Some of the actions they have taken have been heroic indeed. If I had money to donate, I’d give it to http://www.survival-international.org/home, which advocates for the rights of indigenous people to simply live the way they’ve lived for 1000s of years.
But right now my sympathies are with the whales and my passions with Paul Watson and Sea Shepherd http://www.seashepherd.org/migaloo/index.html. I read and have sent as a gift and recommended to everyone The Whale Warriors, the story of Sea Shepherd’s 2005 tracking of the Japanese whaling fleet, that illegally hunted and killed more than 800 minke whales and nearly 50 fin whales in the Antarctic whale sanctuary. When I lived on the East Coast of Australia, every spring (that’s September through November Down Under) I was thrilled to see the whale migration south to the summer feeding grounds in the Antarctic. Pods of several whales, pairs of mothers and calves, sometimes two or three pals, or the occasional loner, swam by, visible along the horizon as they spouted and breeched. The whale-watching industry of Australia has successfully created a sense of stewardship by almost all Australians (except, of course, the recently deposed Howard government) and the fury with which Aussies greet the Japanese determination to continue to hunt 1000+ whales per year for “research” purposes has become virulent: FUCK OFF JAPAN... LEAVE OUR WHALES ALONE!!!! http://www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=7251222651&ref=nf
With their announcement this year that they would add 50 humpback whales to the quota—and refusal even to guarantee the safety of Migaloo, the rare albino humpback that is Australia’s darling—Japan has crossed the line. Even the BUSH ADMINISTRATION has sternly warned Japan that this activity will not be tolerated. New Aussie Prime Minister Kevin Rudd has confirmed that he will send Naval scouts to document the illegal whaling “take action before the International Court of Justice and the Tribunal for Law of the Sea, using the Whaling Convention and the Endangered Species Convention” —hunting whales, especially in a sanctuary, is, after all, ILLEGAL.
Watson, however, isn’t holding his breath; neither is Sea Shepherd holding back on enforcing the law themselves, as best they can. According to the organisation’s latest press release:
“Sea Shepherd does not understand how Australia can enforce fishing regulations against Toothfish poachers from Uruguay yet cannot intervene against the slaughter of the whales in these same water, waters that are clearly marked on the nautical charts as part of the Australian Economic Exclusion Zone.
“Our response to Australia's announcement of their 'plan' to protect the whales is to drop the camera and pick up your guns and enforce the bloody laws, mate.”
My gift will provide “a family in Somalia or Jerusalem/Gaza/West Bank with a beehive, safety equipment and training so they can produce a source of essential vitamins for their children and generate vital income” www.worldvision.com.au/smiles. As my husband wrote to me, “we have enough ‘stuff’ already. I think that this is a gift that will keep on giving to people who need it. Was going to buy a goat but they've sold out.” As my mother pointed out, it’s probably just as well that it wasn’t a goat—you have to feed a goat; bees feed themselves. Also, it’s hard to steal bees.
But I’m as happy with this gift as I imagine a wife in the developing world would be with an actual goat! I checked the website and World Vision is indeed sold out of goats (for families in the Sudan), donkeys for women in Ethiopia, and sports equipment for children in Papua New Guinea. Still available, however, are school kits for children in Azerbaijan, greening/tree-plantings in many African, South American and SE Asian countries, and Clean and Flush systems to improve hygiene in the Democratic Republic of the Congo.
If you’re of the “teach a person to fish” philosophy, however, there are other ways to contribute to the development of that developing world: Andrew Leonard of Salon today celebrates the repayment (in full) of a micro-loan and feels so enriched by the experience he’s decided to “roll it over and double up on [his] bet”, starting “the How the World Works Christmas tradition.”
http://www.salon.com/tech/htww/2007/12/21/a_very_merry_kiva_christmas/index.html
Although this is all a very “rich white liberal” thing to do—a process about which I’m very critical and cynical—still, it’s one of the few ways that those of us in the first world can contribute to improving the quality of life for the 2/3 of the world who live on less than $2 a day. I sponsor a child in Kenya, I go out of my way to buy Fair Trade goods, I research consumer products to make sure they’re not created by child labor in sweatshops. I don’t shop at WalMart, I don’t buy Nestle, Exxon or Teva, I buy as locally as possible, and I support all manner of pressure on elected officials as well as corporate entities from Bono, Bob Geldof, Oprah, Care2, Angelina Jolie, and every other well-meaning First World liberal trying to alleviate the guilt and actually do some good, for the long term.
I do, however, tend to feel more impassioned about non-human animals; much of my interest in improving the conditions of humans in the developing world comes from my understanding that if the conditions of humans are improved, deforestation and destruction of habitat for the many endangered animals—Mountain Gorillas, Bengal tigers, clouded leopards, jaguars, lemurs, elephants, and dozens, maybe hundreds of others—will be reduced. Humans I reckon play at least some role in much of their own misery. Non-human animals do nothing but act in the way that nature—or circumstances brought about by the interference in nature—forces them to. Such circumstances have also, of course, affected indigenous peoples all over the world; I am quite prepared to recognize the impossible positions of the !Kung of the Kalahari, the Maasai, the Inuit, the Papau New Guineans, the Amazonian tribes, all of whose deep connection to nature places them between protecting the natural world of which they are part, and surviving in the face of the onslaught of Western “civilization”. Some of the actions they have taken have been heroic indeed. If I had money to donate, I’d give it to http://www.survival-international.org/home, which advocates for the rights of indigenous people to simply live the way they’ve lived for 1000s of years.
But right now my sympathies are with the whales and my passions with Paul Watson and Sea Shepherd http://www.seashepherd.org/migaloo/index.html. I read and have sent as a gift and recommended to everyone The Whale Warriors, the story of Sea Shepherd’s 2005 tracking of the Japanese whaling fleet, that illegally hunted and killed more than 800 minke whales and nearly 50 fin whales in the Antarctic whale sanctuary. When I lived on the East Coast of Australia, every spring (that’s September through November Down Under) I was thrilled to see the whale migration south to the summer feeding grounds in the Antarctic. Pods of several whales, pairs of mothers and calves, sometimes two or three pals, or the occasional loner, swam by, visible along the horizon as they spouted and breeched. The whale-watching industry of Australia has successfully created a sense of stewardship by almost all Australians (except, of course, the recently deposed Howard government) and the fury with which Aussies greet the Japanese determination to continue to hunt 1000+ whales per year for “research” purposes has become virulent: FUCK OFF JAPAN... LEAVE OUR WHALES ALONE!!!! http://www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=7251222651&ref=nf
With their announcement this year that they would add 50 humpback whales to the quota—and refusal even to guarantee the safety of Migaloo, the rare albino humpback that is Australia’s darling—Japan has crossed the line. Even the BUSH ADMINISTRATION has sternly warned Japan that this activity will not be tolerated. New Aussie Prime Minister Kevin Rudd has confirmed that he will send Naval scouts to document the illegal whaling “take action before the International Court of Justice and the Tribunal for Law of the Sea, using the Whaling Convention and the Endangered Species Convention” —hunting whales, especially in a sanctuary, is, after all, ILLEGAL.
Watson, however, isn’t holding his breath; neither is Sea Shepherd holding back on enforcing the law themselves, as best they can. According to the organisation’s latest press release:
“Sea Shepherd does not understand how Australia can enforce fishing regulations against Toothfish poachers from Uruguay yet cannot intervene against the slaughter of the whales in these same water, waters that are clearly marked on the nautical charts as part of the Australian Economic Exclusion Zone.
“Our response to Australia's announcement of their 'plan' to protect the whales is to drop the camera and pick up your guns and enforce the bloody laws, mate.”
Thursday, December 20, 2007
"Pro-life": Language of Patriarchy
As an enthusiastic reader of Salon.com, I often comment on articles and even participate in debates with other reader/commentors. In today’s issue, Glenn Greenwald compares Ron Paul’s “Pro-life” stance to that of Harry Reid and asks what hypocrisy makes Democrat supporters condemn one but tolerate the other http://letters.salon.com/opinion/greenwald/2007/12/20/reid_paul/view/index8.html?show=all . That debate rages on and I will not go into it here.
My question, however, is one that has bothered me for many years, and neither Greenwald nor any other “liberal” or “leftist” or “Democrat” has ever addressed it, let alone answered it to my satisfaction: Why do we allow the right (and this is pretty much a religious right issue) to frame the debate by using their language? How are anti-choice supporters “pro-life”? Study after study, statistic after statistic, shows that when abortion is illegal, women die. How is that pro-life? The VAST majority of right-wingers who call themselves “pro-life” only apply the term to fetuses, but not to living, breathing conscious adults on death row; nor to victims of chronic disease who might be helped by stem-cell research; nor to victims of the war and violence that their government perpetrates on innocent civilians the world over.
My question, however, is one that has bothered me for many years, and neither Greenwald nor any other “liberal” or “leftist” or “Democrat” has ever addressed it, let alone answered it to my satisfaction: Why do we allow the right (and this is pretty much a religious right issue) to frame the debate by using their language? How are anti-choice supporters “pro-life”? Study after study, statistic after statistic, shows that when abortion is illegal, women die. How is that pro-life? The VAST majority of right-wingers who call themselves “pro-life” only apply the term to fetuses, but not to living, breathing conscious adults on death row; nor to victims of chronic disease who might be helped by stem-cell research; nor to victims of the war and violence that their government perpetrates on innocent civilians the world over.
This is what "pro-life"/anti-choice looks like.
The right-wing-coined “pro-life” is an emotionally-charged term designed by its very connotation to put the other side in the wrong—obviously, anyone who is not “pro-life” must be “anti-life”. Nothing could be further from the truth. Pro-choice IS pro-life—pro-quality of life; pro-healthy life; pro-safety and pre-natal care, disease-free, joy-provoking-having-a-child-because-we-WANT-to life. NO one is pro-abortion (except, I like to joke, retroactively, when certain politicians make ridiculous or dangerous decisions). As a long-standing member of the pro-choice community from a personal, political, and abortion-counselor perspective, I can state unequivocally that there are no people more aware of the gravity nor more personally touched by the issue of choice than those in that community.
My point here, however, is how language is used as an ideological whip, and how liberal (or mainstream, if you insist) analysts often seem unable to acknowledge this. Certainly Noam Chomsky’s work and the respect he receives in political theory circles can’t help but illustrate that language does, in fact, create culture. It’s no mistake that the most respected progressive political analyst in the world today is a linguist by profession. Chomsky’s ability to point out what is really meant by what is said is the key to understanding how the corporatocracy has achieved and maintained its power. Before Chomsky, there were Orwell, Woolf, Swift, even Jefferson and any number of wordsmiths who recognized and discussed at length the effect of manipulated language on the political reality and the public’s understanding of it. In order to function, members of a democratic state must have equal access to information—and the definitions of the terms used to produce that information must be agreed upon. Certain terminology must be universal. This issue is particularly pertinent in the immediate political climate, where the definition of “torture” is no longer one on which, apparently, consensus exists.
Any student of political theory who is not aware of how language—word choices, the subtle differences in connotation, the application of inappropriate terms so frequently that they become acceptable, even though the original meaning is completely distorted—is manipulated to achieve power needs to re-read Animal Farm: Some animals are more equal than others. Who can point out the inherent contradiction in that sentence? It’s similar to what an editor showed me not long ago—that something cannot be more unique. Either it’s unique or it’s not.
Same with equality. Either animals (even human animals) are equal, or they’re not. There are no gradations of equality. To say that some are more equal than others is, in the words of my Czech friend, “a nonsense”.
So the fact that Greenwald and many, many other political pundits from the left of center (itself a relative term when you compare even just western political ideologies, let alone those of other cultures)—and even some of them women—continue to use the term “pro-life” in the context originally coined by the religious right raises my hackles of suspicion. I define myself as a leftist because I believe that liberals are essentially reformers, and I don’t believe that reform is enough. I believe we need a revolution. It might not need to be violent, but we need to throw out the current system—particularly the values it espouses and forces on us—and develop a new one. It’s not enough to create a kinder, gentler neo-liberalism; that only results in, like the Victorian age, being nicer to the poor. We need to create a system that eliminates poverty, war, violence, oppression and unnecessary suffering. Not to mention one that allows the continued functioning of a healthy ecosystem here on planet Earth—a proposition that seems a no-brainer to me, but seems to be meeting with all kinds of resistance from those who have the most to lose!
Obviously, my view is that of a minority. I believe, like Arundhati Roy, that that minority is growing every day; that people, particularly in the “developing” world, are waking up to the fact that, between the oppressors and the oppressed, “we be many and they be few”. Greenwald and most widely read political pundits, however, would not define themselves as revolutionaries. And here is where my suspicions catch root: I am aware, as many are not, that to advocate a true equality of women is revolutionary. A society where women have equal access and equal power would (or does, in the few places it exists today) look very different from the society in which we live. To change the language would change the culture—and even the liberal left is still dominated by white males. Does Greenwald’s—and others’—choice to use this term, a cornerstone of patriarchy’s control over women, reveal that even “liberal” society is unwilling to challenge the dominant paradigm?
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
Death by Toxins: A Preventable Plague
16 December 2007
Yesterday we buried my Uncle Claiborne, who died after a protracted battle with mesothelioma. This disease, caused by working with asbestos, has affected or killed an enormous number of former employees of the Newport News Shipyard (of which Uncle Claiborne was one). Claiborne had to have his lung removed nearly two years ago, and has been struggling to regain his strength and quality of life ever since. Two weeks ago, his doctors at Duke University Medical Center discovered that the mesothelioma had spread to his stomach. Uncle Claiborne could no longer eat at all; because he had diabetes, he couldn’t be given glucose. We are all grateful that he went quickly and didn’t linger to literally starve to death.
The shocking thing about this is that the Newport News Shipyard still operates, and still uses asbestos. Victims of mesothelioma are receiving huge financial settlements—as will Aunt Priscilla and her two grown children—but what is any amount of money to the loss of husband and father? Although shipyard employees now use all manner of protective clothing and masks, still, they, like nuclear facility employees, are constantly exposed to this poison. Mesothelioma has attacked people who never worked at or went to the shipyard, but only handled the clothes of or simply lived in the house with shipyard employees. Should not such a deadly and far-reaching poison be banned—shouldn’t ship builders (and here we’re talking about military contractors, in Newport News anyway) find alternative materials to those that cause this incurable and devastating disease?
The materials used to make surfboards, once deemed toxic to the environment and to people who work with them, were banned. Surfboards are still being built; makers have experimented with and found several other options to the toxic materials.
But surfboards are bought and used and almost always built by people whose values are very different from those who build ships for the military. Surfing is a personal pleasure, a healthy life pursuit, a connection to the sea and nature that is, according to aficionados, unparalleled by any other activity. It would be antithetical to the philosophy, almost religion, behind surfing to continue to build and use boards made of toxic materials.
Warships, on the other hand, are built by those who, by definition, see life as less important than power. To participate in the war economy in any way is to agree to the values of power over life, of control over pleasure. Killing—and even death—is preferable to compromise, change, and a reassessment of lifestyle and power structures. So it is no surprise that people whose primary purpose is to build warships are not concerned enough about the health of their workers to find other, non-toxic materials from which to build those ships. All of the members of the Shipyard power structure are, I’m sure, very sorry about the deaths of Claiborne and more than 3000 others just in the Hampton Roads area; but, their actions say, regrettable as it may be, death and suffering are the price we must pay for the lifestyle we choose.
It is, essentially, the same message we send to our troops in Iraq and Afghanistan, the vast majority of whom know, it seems, that we are not there to spread democracy and freedom (not for women anyway, who were much better off in both countries before our invasion) but rather to seize and protect the rights of what John Perkins (author of Confessions of an Economic Hit Man) calls the “corporatocracy”. Make no mistake, the vast majority of people in the US—certainly the vast majority of troops—will receive very little benefit from the corporatocracy whose rights our tax dollars and their lives are given to protect. It is the 1 percent, the superwealthy, the CEOs and major stockholders of Bechtel and Halliburton and Lockheed Martin and all the other reconstruction agents and weapons-makers who benefit. But these members of the corporatocracy—not very different at all from the European monarchies of the 17th through 20th centuries, which consisted almost exclusively of members of the same family—all have each others’ backs. They control the mainstream media, the publishing houses, the textbook publishers, almost every form of information-creation in the USA.
There are, of course, many other ways to get your information. Thanks to the internet, almost everyone in the “First” world has access to alternative information from virtually every perspective. Indeed, I sometimes think too much information is as bad as too little—who can make sense of all the millions of feeds providing contradictory stories? And since US Americans have been indoctrinated nearly from birth to buy, do, believe whatever is most convenient, is it any surprise that that is what most of them do? It is such a struggle in this country to go against the mainstream, to actually do the right thing, that when I can put aside my petty anger and disgust at what I call “ignorant arrogance”, I have to admit that I shouldn’t be surprised at how easily led we are, but rather at how many people are able to reject and find or create alternatives at all.
Long ago I developed an analogy I like to use. As a horse person, I don’t often get to share my love and knowledge of horses with a general audience. But in the years I’ve spent with horses and learning about them, I’ve come to realise something that seems remarkable. Horses are animals of prey; that is, their primary role in the ecosystem, in addition to maintaining the balance of grasslands, is to feed carnivores. Consequently, all of the horse’s survival mechanisms are based on flight. Horses have excellent hearing and sense of smell, good peripheral vision, and are fleet and graceful—all characteristics to allow them to escape from predators. In order for these mechanisms to function best, however, horses need to live in wide-open spaces such as prairies, savannahs, etc. Their natural habitat provides the possibility of using their defenses to the best advantage.
So what do we humans, whose modern civilizations owe much if not most to the companion labor of horses, do with them? We lock them up in small, dark buildings, where the smell of their bodies and excrement fills the air; they cannot see beyond the walls; their own and the noises of other animals interferes with their excellent hearing; and worst of all, when danger is sensed, prevent them from being able to run from it. Once I realised this about horses, I no longer wondered that some were mean, uncooperative, violent, nervous, or developed self-abusing habits; I wondered why all of them didn’t.
And yet, many, many horses have existed throughout human history that have not only overcome these enormous handicaps, forced on them by human domesticity, but have shown almost supernatural strength and valor. Horses, called upon by trusted humans, run until they drop for some personal emergency or military objective. Horses have fought off human or animal attacks on their offspring or their people. Horses, such as Barbaro, who through breeding and training come to love the competition humans subject them to, will race—and try to win—even with a broken leg.
If horses can overcome negative conditioning and handicaps to behave in such a heroic manner, shouldn’t humans also be able to? Other societies—Western as well as non-western—have chosen to base their laws and structure not on power and control, but on compassion and that elusive “pursuit of happiness” that the US enshrined in our founding documents but still seems to elude us. Why can we not, despite our conditioning, reject a system that values power over life, military prowess over personal health? These toxic materials are almost universally banned throughout the rest of the Western world—why can we not ban toxic materials from every aspect of commerce and production? Why must people in this country be forced to choose between well-paid but potentially lethal work and that which is poorly paid but “safe”?
A local paper did a feature on Uncle Claiborne that mistakenly said he died from cancer. He did NOT die from cancer. He died from mesothelioma, a completely preventable, controllable disease. What kind of values can we possibly claim when we continue to allow such a plague?
Yesterday we buried my Uncle Claiborne, who died after a protracted battle with mesothelioma. This disease, caused by working with asbestos, has affected or killed an enormous number of former employees of the Newport News Shipyard (of which Uncle Claiborne was one). Claiborne had to have his lung removed nearly two years ago, and has been struggling to regain his strength and quality of life ever since. Two weeks ago, his doctors at Duke University Medical Center discovered that the mesothelioma had spread to his stomach. Uncle Claiborne could no longer eat at all; because he had diabetes, he couldn’t be given glucose. We are all grateful that he went quickly and didn’t linger to literally starve to death.
The shocking thing about this is that the Newport News Shipyard still operates, and still uses asbestos. Victims of mesothelioma are receiving huge financial settlements—as will Aunt Priscilla and her two grown children—but what is any amount of money to the loss of husband and father? Although shipyard employees now use all manner of protective clothing and masks, still, they, like nuclear facility employees, are constantly exposed to this poison. Mesothelioma has attacked people who never worked at or went to the shipyard, but only handled the clothes of or simply lived in the house with shipyard employees. Should not such a deadly and far-reaching poison be banned—shouldn’t ship builders (and here we’re talking about military contractors, in Newport News anyway) find alternative materials to those that cause this incurable and devastating disease?
The materials used to make surfboards, once deemed toxic to the environment and to people who work with them, were banned. Surfboards are still being built; makers have experimented with and found several other options to the toxic materials.
But surfboards are bought and used and almost always built by people whose values are very different from those who build ships for the military. Surfing is a personal pleasure, a healthy life pursuit, a connection to the sea and nature that is, according to aficionados, unparalleled by any other activity. It would be antithetical to the philosophy, almost religion, behind surfing to continue to build and use boards made of toxic materials.
Warships, on the other hand, are built by those who, by definition, see life as less important than power. To participate in the war economy in any way is to agree to the values of power over life, of control over pleasure. Killing—and even death—is preferable to compromise, change, and a reassessment of lifestyle and power structures. So it is no surprise that people whose primary purpose is to build warships are not concerned enough about the health of their workers to find other, non-toxic materials from which to build those ships. All of the members of the Shipyard power structure are, I’m sure, very sorry about the deaths of Claiborne and more than 3000 others just in the Hampton Roads area; but, their actions say, regrettable as it may be, death and suffering are the price we must pay for the lifestyle we choose.
It is, essentially, the same message we send to our troops in Iraq and Afghanistan, the vast majority of whom know, it seems, that we are not there to spread democracy and freedom (not for women anyway, who were much better off in both countries before our invasion) but rather to seize and protect the rights of what John Perkins (author of Confessions of an Economic Hit Man) calls the “corporatocracy”. Make no mistake, the vast majority of people in the US—certainly the vast majority of troops—will receive very little benefit from the corporatocracy whose rights our tax dollars and their lives are given to protect. It is the 1 percent, the superwealthy, the CEOs and major stockholders of Bechtel and Halliburton and Lockheed Martin and all the other reconstruction agents and weapons-makers who benefit. But these members of the corporatocracy—not very different at all from the European monarchies of the 17th through 20th centuries, which consisted almost exclusively of members of the same family—all have each others’ backs. They control the mainstream media, the publishing houses, the textbook publishers, almost every form of information-creation in the USA.
There are, of course, many other ways to get your information. Thanks to the internet, almost everyone in the “First” world has access to alternative information from virtually every perspective. Indeed, I sometimes think too much information is as bad as too little—who can make sense of all the millions of feeds providing contradictory stories? And since US Americans have been indoctrinated nearly from birth to buy, do, believe whatever is most convenient, is it any surprise that that is what most of them do? It is such a struggle in this country to go against the mainstream, to actually do the right thing, that when I can put aside my petty anger and disgust at what I call “ignorant arrogance”, I have to admit that I shouldn’t be surprised at how easily led we are, but rather at how many people are able to reject and find or create alternatives at all.
Long ago I developed an analogy I like to use. As a horse person, I don’t often get to share my love and knowledge of horses with a general audience. But in the years I’ve spent with horses and learning about them, I’ve come to realise something that seems remarkable. Horses are animals of prey; that is, their primary role in the ecosystem, in addition to maintaining the balance of grasslands, is to feed carnivores. Consequently, all of the horse’s survival mechanisms are based on flight. Horses have excellent hearing and sense of smell, good peripheral vision, and are fleet and graceful—all characteristics to allow them to escape from predators. In order for these mechanisms to function best, however, horses need to live in wide-open spaces such as prairies, savannahs, etc. Their natural habitat provides the possibility of using their defenses to the best advantage.
So what do we humans, whose modern civilizations owe much if not most to the companion labor of horses, do with them? We lock them up in small, dark buildings, where the smell of their bodies and excrement fills the air; they cannot see beyond the walls; their own and the noises of other animals interferes with their excellent hearing; and worst of all, when danger is sensed, prevent them from being able to run from it. Once I realised this about horses, I no longer wondered that some were mean, uncooperative, violent, nervous, or developed self-abusing habits; I wondered why all of them didn’t.
And yet, many, many horses have existed throughout human history that have not only overcome these enormous handicaps, forced on them by human domesticity, but have shown almost supernatural strength and valor. Horses, called upon by trusted humans, run until they drop for some personal emergency or military objective. Horses have fought off human or animal attacks on their offspring or their people. Horses, such as Barbaro, who through breeding and training come to love the competition humans subject them to, will race—and try to win—even with a broken leg.
If horses can overcome negative conditioning and handicaps to behave in such a heroic manner, shouldn’t humans also be able to? Other societies—Western as well as non-western—have chosen to base their laws and structure not on power and control, but on compassion and that elusive “pursuit of happiness” that the US enshrined in our founding documents but still seems to elude us. Why can we not, despite our conditioning, reject a system that values power over life, military prowess over personal health? These toxic materials are almost universally banned throughout the rest of the Western world—why can we not ban toxic materials from every aspect of commerce and production? Why must people in this country be forced to choose between well-paid but potentially lethal work and that which is poorly paid but “safe”?
A local paper did a feature on Uncle Claiborne that mistakenly said he died from cancer. He did NOT die from cancer. He died from mesothelioma, a completely preventable, controllable disease. What kind of values can we possibly claim when we continue to allow such a plague?
Monday, June 25, 2007
Letter to John Edwards
Hey, y'all
I want you to know that as a native North Carolinian, I have been supporting John Edwards' campaign. Awhile back, I wrote a blog about why on my blog, Femifesta.
But now I have a big problem with some things John has said, and some other things he hasn't said. Can you give me some answers?
Recently, in reaction to all the neocon hype about Iran (all of which is based on information just as accurate and honest as the hype about Iraq before the war), John Edwards said that "nothing is off the table" in terms of military action against Iran. We interpret that to mean nuclear weapons are "on the table".
I will not support nor vote for any candidate who will not pledge to keep nuclear weapons off ANY and EVERY table. If John has so little faith in his ability to find diplomatic solutions to problems (here and now in the 21st century) then I don't think he's the man to be president of the world's leading weapons maker and aggressor.
Another issue that I would like for John to address is the existence of Blackwater USA (http://www.blackwaterusa.com/) in our home state of North Carolina. Founded by Erik Prince, a former Navy Seal and "billionaire right-wing fundamentalist Christian from a powerful Michigan Republican family" he is a "major Republican campaign contributor, ... interned in the White House of President George H.W. Bush and campaigned for Pat Buchanan in 1992. He founded the mercenary firm Blackwater USA in 1997 with Gary Jackson, another former Navy SEAL." http://www.sourcewatch.org/index.php?title=Blackwater_USA
I'd like to know what John, an outspoken opponent of the Iraq war who cannot possibly support a mercenary organization like Blackwater--which operates outside any code of military, civil or Geneva Convention law--is doing to shut down this aberration. Clearly Governor Easley has lost his mind and has begun selling our precious state to big business--I need to know what action presidential candidate John Edwards has taken against the war machine right at home.
How can I believe that President Edwards will be a Peace President if he isn't working on these two peace issues right now in his campaign?
I look forward to hearing from you.
Your fellow North Carolinian,
Kit Kimberly
I want you to know that as a native North Carolinian, I have been supporting John Edwards' campaign. Awhile back, I wrote a blog about why on my blog, Femifesta.
But now I have a big problem with some things John has said, and some other things he hasn't said. Can you give me some answers?
Recently, in reaction to all the neocon hype about Iran (all of which is based on information just as accurate and honest as the hype about Iraq before the war), John Edwards said that "nothing is off the table" in terms of military action against Iran. We interpret that to mean nuclear weapons are "on the table".
I will not support nor vote for any candidate who will not pledge to keep nuclear weapons off ANY and EVERY table. If John has so little faith in his ability to find diplomatic solutions to problems (here and now in the 21st century) then I don't think he's the man to be president of the world's leading weapons maker and aggressor.
Another issue that I would like for John to address is the existence of Blackwater USA (http://www.blackwaterusa.com/) in our home state of North Carolina. Founded by Erik Prince, a former Navy Seal and "billionaire right-wing fundamentalist Christian from a powerful Michigan Republican family" he is a "major Republican campaign contributor, ... interned in the White House of President George H.W. Bush and campaigned for Pat Buchanan in 1992. He founded the mercenary firm Blackwater USA in 1997 with Gary Jackson, another former Navy SEAL." http://www.sourcewatch.org/index.php?title=Blackwater_USA
I'd like to know what John, an outspoken opponent of the Iraq war who cannot possibly support a mercenary organization like Blackwater--which operates outside any code of military, civil or Geneva Convention law--is doing to shut down this aberration. Clearly Governor Easley has lost his mind and has begun selling our precious state to big business--I need to know what action presidential candidate John Edwards has taken against the war machine right at home.
How can I believe that President Edwards will be a Peace President if he isn't working on these two peace issues right now in his campaign?
I look forward to hearing from you.
Your fellow North Carolinian,
Kit Kimberly
Thursday, June 7, 2007
On Developing as a Feminist
Part of my Femifesta is ecofeminism. I’ve been an ecofeminist for 20 years; my feminism came about when I was 16, read The Women’s Room, and realized that the ostracism, criticism and judgement I had been facing—for not doing what I was supposed to do, not valuing what I was supposed to value, not being who I was supposed to be—didn’t result from who I was but from an artificial social construct of gender called sexism. I was at the time aware of racism—its artificiality, its arbitrariness, its injustice. I had always been, for the most part, much more interested in books about girls and their adventures. I had (not so quietly) rebelled against the restrictions placed on me by parents, teachers, caretakers, even peers; but all the while I internalized the criticism and subconsciously believed I was somehow fatally flawed.
What a relief to realize it wasn’t me—it was a social injustice, not a personal flaw. I celebrated by becoming even more rebellious; and for a Southern “well-bred” white girl, that meant, more than anything else, sexually liberated and highly experimental (well, again, remember the context). I immediately jumped the color barrier—after all, my caretakers as a child had been ample, warm, honest-smelling black women. We didn’t call them Mammy, we called them by their first names: Beatrice, Anne, Hattie. And they called our parents Mr. and Miz (they only called me “Miz” when I was in trouble, as in “Miz Jane, you better get your little butt in this bathtub!”). My mother tried to control by nagging and the occasional switch; Dad hollered and hit. I respected neither of them and my response to their “discipline” was the same as a cat’s: I just didn’t let them see me do it.
But those large, firm, black women had my complete respect and obedience—well, as much as I could give it—in exchange for the warm and sincere affection they showered on me. No place was so safe after a knee scrape or a wasp sting than Anne’s ample lap; only her sweet-smelling breath could ease the burn of mercurochrome. So when Marilyn French and feminism gave me permission to follow my desires for sex (and approval and affection and love), it was natural that I crossed that forbidden color barrier.
My first black lover was a beautiful man—at 17, he was tall, sleekly muscled with the athlete’s broad shoulders tapering to a fine sinuous waist; upper arms as lithe and powerful as a race horse’s; smooth, narrow hips and that beautiful black man’s butt: high, hard and round. I wasn’t inexperienced and the size of his “member” didn’t shock or frighten me, but it definitely did nothing to dispel the size mythology that surrounds black men’s sexuality. I never had an orgasm with him—I had not yet had orgasm during sex. I’d only learnt a short while before to have one with myself and I was too shy to suggest any extracurricular activities on his part. I don’t remember the sex itself being particularly fabulous—only the urgency of my desire. It never took very long and he, like every other teenage boy I slept with, was always eager to be on his way afterwards. Most of my pleasure was in the anticipation and the admiration of his beautiful, mocha-colored body; his huge, slightly tilted brown eyes; his regally high cheekbones and aquiline nose; and those full lips, so gorgeous, so inviting—the first time he kissed me I nearly fainted. I probably would’ve been happy with just kisses.
Less than a year after our—relationship? affair? fuck-fest?—ended, he was dead. He was in an automobile accident; we’d gone to different colleges but a mutual friend told me about the horrendous wreck and that he was hospitalized. When I saw her the next day in the student center, her usually knowing good-natured features ashey with pain, I knew he was dead; I fainted at the news. I had never known anyone so close to me to die. Especially someone so vital and pulsing and arrogant with life. It was impossible to fathom. I went home for the funeral, but when I drove downtown and saw all those dignified black folks out mourning yet another loss of youth and beauty, I knew I didn’t belong. His parents wouldn’t welcome me—they’d answered the phone a few times when I’d called and I knew they were no more happy about him seeing a white girl than my parents would’ve been if they’d known. I couldn’t go to the viewing or the funeral—some time later, I went to the grave, a flat, scrubby plot, the stone tiny and nearly anonymous. I imagined that godlike beauty shrinking and crumbling in the coffin; his athletic valor, his physical grace, his demand that the world acknowledge and respect him. I certainly had. I mourned not knowing him better—his dreams, the impediments—of which there were many. He came from a upwardly-mobile black family in an old Southern town that had fought integration hard and had even come to violence not long before I was in high school. The fact that he was in college was a triumph, though I’d heard he was partying too much and not working hard enough—he was bright, very bright, but unprepared and unmotivated. It’s questionable that he’d have finished college. I think now of the Houseman poem:
“Now you will not swell the rout
Of lads that wore their honours out,
Runners whom renown outran
And the name died before the man.”
and wonder if, despite all his beauty and potential, his life would’ve got better or worse; if, were he alive today, I’d still admire and respect him.
But I digress. The radical-ness of my feminism never diminishes, though its form morphs and shifts—a belief in liberated, free sexuality has only developed; but my philosophy of feminism grows, becomes larger and more inclusive. The first foray outside of women and sex was ecofeminism. I visited a friend at Evergreen State College in Olympia Washington. Famous for producing such 90s radicals and creatives as Cobain, Vedder, Love and Cornell, in the 80s Evergreen and Olympia also nurtured (and probably still does) a quite radical green pocket—and one that fully incorporated a feminist perspective. In Olympia, I met my friend’s “goddess-Mother” Willow, who soaked the blood out of her menstrual rags and used the water on her moon plants—which produced the most lush, amazing flowers I’ve ever seen! I learnt about Starhawk and Charlene Spretnik; James Lovelock and Deep Ecology; Alice Walker and Marge Piercy. It being the 80s, and a crest in the wave of women’s empowerment that began in the 70s, these ideas got a lot of play at the time. I was lucky enough to visit some of the places they got their start: Olympic National Forest, for example, is a place where the philosophies of Deep Ecology seem not only possible, but undeniable. It is like the Narnian forest that Lucy tries so hard to waken in Prince Caspian; the trees are like Tolkein’s quiet, deeply raging Ents. You feel their energy, their power—at the time, I also felt sadness. I did not belong in their forest, it was clear. Even though my intentions were good, I had no place there. I had flashes of the dryad who comes to tell King Rillian that the Lantern Waste is being murdered; but I was not the king, nor were these trees subject to me. Nor did they know that I was not one of those who laid them waste in broad, murderous swathes that caused the topsoil to wash away and the land to bleed its rich, red clay into the rivers of the Pacific Northwest. It was a powerful connection I made with the trees there, one that has never left me. It also opened me up to many more connections with the natural world—connections that I remembered from my early childhood but that I had lost in the process of “civilization”.
(to be continued)
What a relief to realize it wasn’t me—it was a social injustice, not a personal flaw. I celebrated by becoming even more rebellious; and for a Southern “well-bred” white girl, that meant, more than anything else, sexually liberated and highly experimental (well, again, remember the context). I immediately jumped the color barrier—after all, my caretakers as a child had been ample, warm, honest-smelling black women. We didn’t call them Mammy, we called them by their first names: Beatrice, Anne, Hattie. And they called our parents Mr. and Miz (they only called me “Miz” when I was in trouble, as in “Miz Jane, you better get your little butt in this bathtub!”). My mother tried to control by nagging and the occasional switch; Dad hollered and hit. I respected neither of them and my response to their “discipline” was the same as a cat’s: I just didn’t let them see me do it.
But those large, firm, black women had my complete respect and obedience—well, as much as I could give it—in exchange for the warm and sincere affection they showered on me. No place was so safe after a knee scrape or a wasp sting than Anne’s ample lap; only her sweet-smelling breath could ease the burn of mercurochrome. So when Marilyn French and feminism gave me permission to follow my desires for sex (and approval and affection and love), it was natural that I crossed that forbidden color barrier.
My first black lover was a beautiful man—at 17, he was tall, sleekly muscled with the athlete’s broad shoulders tapering to a fine sinuous waist; upper arms as lithe and powerful as a race horse’s; smooth, narrow hips and that beautiful black man’s butt: high, hard and round. I wasn’t inexperienced and the size of his “member” didn’t shock or frighten me, but it definitely did nothing to dispel the size mythology that surrounds black men’s sexuality. I never had an orgasm with him—I had not yet had orgasm during sex. I’d only learnt a short while before to have one with myself and I was too shy to suggest any extracurricular activities on his part. I don’t remember the sex itself being particularly fabulous—only the urgency of my desire. It never took very long and he, like every other teenage boy I slept with, was always eager to be on his way afterwards. Most of my pleasure was in the anticipation and the admiration of his beautiful, mocha-colored body; his huge, slightly tilted brown eyes; his regally high cheekbones and aquiline nose; and those full lips, so gorgeous, so inviting—the first time he kissed me I nearly fainted. I probably would’ve been happy with just kisses.
Less than a year after our—relationship? affair? fuck-fest?—ended, he was dead. He was in an automobile accident; we’d gone to different colleges but a mutual friend told me about the horrendous wreck and that he was hospitalized. When I saw her the next day in the student center, her usually knowing good-natured features ashey with pain, I knew he was dead; I fainted at the news. I had never known anyone so close to me to die. Especially someone so vital and pulsing and arrogant with life. It was impossible to fathom. I went home for the funeral, but when I drove downtown and saw all those dignified black folks out mourning yet another loss of youth and beauty, I knew I didn’t belong. His parents wouldn’t welcome me—they’d answered the phone a few times when I’d called and I knew they were no more happy about him seeing a white girl than my parents would’ve been if they’d known. I couldn’t go to the viewing or the funeral—some time later, I went to the grave, a flat, scrubby plot, the stone tiny and nearly anonymous. I imagined that godlike beauty shrinking and crumbling in the coffin; his athletic valor, his physical grace, his demand that the world acknowledge and respect him. I certainly had. I mourned not knowing him better—his dreams, the impediments—of which there were many. He came from a upwardly-mobile black family in an old Southern town that had fought integration hard and had even come to violence not long before I was in high school. The fact that he was in college was a triumph, though I’d heard he was partying too much and not working hard enough—he was bright, very bright, but unprepared and unmotivated. It’s questionable that he’d have finished college. I think now of the Houseman poem:
“Now you will not swell the rout
Of lads that wore their honours out,
Runners whom renown outran
And the name died before the man.”
and wonder if, despite all his beauty and potential, his life would’ve got better or worse; if, were he alive today, I’d still admire and respect him.
But I digress. The radical-ness of my feminism never diminishes, though its form morphs and shifts—a belief in liberated, free sexuality has only developed; but my philosophy of feminism grows, becomes larger and more inclusive. The first foray outside of women and sex was ecofeminism. I visited a friend at Evergreen State College in Olympia Washington. Famous for producing such 90s radicals and creatives as Cobain, Vedder, Love and Cornell, in the 80s Evergreen and Olympia also nurtured (and probably still does) a quite radical green pocket—and one that fully incorporated a feminist perspective. In Olympia, I met my friend’s “goddess-Mother” Willow, who soaked the blood out of her menstrual rags and used the water on her moon plants—which produced the most lush, amazing flowers I’ve ever seen! I learnt about Starhawk and Charlene Spretnik; James Lovelock and Deep Ecology; Alice Walker and Marge Piercy. It being the 80s, and a crest in the wave of women’s empowerment that began in the 70s, these ideas got a lot of play at the time. I was lucky enough to visit some of the places they got their start: Olympic National Forest, for example, is a place where the philosophies of Deep Ecology seem not only possible, but undeniable. It is like the Narnian forest that Lucy tries so hard to waken in Prince Caspian; the trees are like Tolkein’s quiet, deeply raging Ents. You feel their energy, their power—at the time, I also felt sadness. I did not belong in their forest, it was clear. Even though my intentions were good, I had no place there. I had flashes of the dryad who comes to tell King Rillian that the Lantern Waste is being murdered; but I was not the king, nor were these trees subject to me. Nor did they know that I was not one of those who laid them waste in broad, murderous swathes that caused the topsoil to wash away and the land to bleed its rich, red clay into the rivers of the Pacific Northwest. It was a powerful connection I made with the trees there, one that has never left me. It also opened me up to many more connections with the natural world—connections that I remembered from my early childhood but that I had lost in the process of “civilization”.
(to be continued)
Monday, June 4, 2007
John Edwards for President
Debate in the Pink House over presidential candidates has not even considered the two top runners—Hilary Clinton and Barack Obama. I can’t speak for the other Pinklers, but, although I am thrilled and aware of what a huge step forward for the US it is to have a woman and a black man as the leading contenders for the presidency, I can support neither of them. Clinton began to lose me when she went from Ms. Rodham to Mrs. Clinton, worried more about her hairstyle than her politics, and stopped being a voice for women. Despite the whole sex scandal, Bill did more for women than Hilary has. Initially,I was interested in and hopeful about Obama, despite his inexperience, until I heard him say he wanted to INCREASE the size of the military.
Being from North Carolina, however, and having a hugely sentimental bias towards the state, I have wanted to support Edwards ever since 2000. Like other Pinklers—and indeed, the majority of my leftist friends—I questioned his “slickness,” his multi-million dollar residence, his record victories in high-priced law cases. And by the time Election Day 2004 came around, my enthusiasm for Kerry was so deflated, Edwards’ name on the ticket hardly caused a blip in my blood pressure. Like in 1988, however, when “Duke til you puke” was as excited as we leftists could get about the Dukakis-Benson ticket, I voted democrat. Fat lot of good that did.
John Edwards, however, really attracted my notice when, instead of taking a high-powered corporate or political job as his status as vice-presidential candidate would have allowed, he chose to head up the Center on Poverty, Work and Opportunity in Chapel Hill, North Carolina. At that point, I would’ve thought, he could’ve traded his profile and charisma for either big money or heavy duty Washington power. He did neither, instead working for an organization that has neither glamour nor prestige. This, of course, may have had something to do with his wife, Elizabeth’s, breast cancer diagnosis on election day—I was exceedingly disappointed when, after stating with great passion and sincerity, “We will count every vote,” Edwards caved so easily when it was clear that irregularities in Ohio cast every shadow on the election’s legitimacy. But I forgave him with tears in my eyes when he and his wife announced her cancer; with such a heavy emotional blow (on a family that had already suffered so much), I thought, how can I blame him for conserving his energy to support his wife during her illness.
Since that time, however, I have given Edwards a lot of thought, and have concluded that he is the best candidate for president in the current race, for a number of reasons.
1) He’s a Southerner. In case the Democrats, and indeed, liberals, leftists and progressives, haven’t noticed, the last two Democrats to win the White House have been from the South. And unlike Georgia and Arkansas, North Carolina is not a “deep South” state, mired in the poverty and racism that traditionally characterize some of her neighbors. North Carolina was nearly evenly divided between seceding from the Union and staying, because its economic base consisted as much of small (non-slave owning) farmers as it did big plantations. That relative egalitarianism has developed over the last 150 years in NC—one of the first Southern states to “recover” from reconstruction, the state has maintained a better and more equal standard of living than almost any other state in the South. NC had its share of Civil Rights activities—and there were no Bull Conners, no dogs and water hoses turned on the folks at the Woolworth’s counter in Winston-Salem. There were some issues with integration, particularly in the southeast; but North Carolina also has several old and well-respected traditional black universities. Edwards was born—as is often touted to add to his “rags to riches” credibility—to a textile mill worker in South Carolina, a southern state never known for its progressive attitude. But that he chose to go to university and then to live in North Carolina is a fact I count to his credit.
2) I have yet to hear John Edwards spout the same old xenophobic rhetoric about how the US is the greatest nation on Earth, etc, etc—while it bubbles like an over-full septic system from the lips of every other mainstream candidate. WHAT, exactly, is the US greatest at? As Bill Maher recently noted, the US “isn't ranked anywhere near first in anything except military might and snotty billionaires” (http://www.salon.com/opinion/feature/2007/05/04/france/index.html). I have lived in a number of other countries, most of which have nowhere near the economic clout or democratic foundations the US claims; and yet the standards of living for the majority of the people in those countries is so much better than that of the US, it’s shocking. For one thing, they all have national health care, which is a great relief both financially and psychologically; when you never have to choose between eating, paying a bill, or going to a doctor, that’s a huge weight off your shoulders.
I love that John Edwards talks about the problems of this country, the two
Americas—older lefties may remember Michael Harrington’s book, The Other America, which heavily influenced JFK’s and Johnson’s “War on Poverty.” I haven’t researched his writing enough to know if his ideas come from the same populist movement that influenced Harrington, but it doesn’t matter where he got the ideas as long as he’s sincere about them. Coming from the textile worker’s background as he does, he surely has memories and experience of a lower working class lifestyle.
** Note on the $400 haircut: Maybe if the US people weren’t so damned shallow, choosing a president like they do an “American Idol”, Edwards (and other candidates) wouldn’t have to be so concerned about image, calling in top dollar cosmetic services because they are so busy on the campaign trail (raising money, mind you, not actually campaigning yet) that they don’t have time to go to their regular barber. Maybe, if the US people (and I’ll acknowledge that it might be the media who’s doing it, not the people) actually cared about substance instead of style, a candidate could appear in a public forum without having to worry about looking like a movie star—be it haircuts, makeovers, face-lifts, or teeth-whitening.
3) And speaking of which, let’s talk about that multi-million dollar house. Sure, it’s extravagant. But isn’t that the whole idea of the American dream, to come from poverty and go to wealth? It’s not my dream to be one of the super rich (which, incidentally, Edwards is not) nor clearly is it that of my fellow Pinklers; but isn’t it the dream—that has been touted and fostered as the ultimate possibility in this country—of many US people? Sure, Dennis Kucinich reflects, much more than John Edwards, my ideals in both his lifestyle and his politics—but does he reflect the ideals of the majority of US people? As Jeb Bartlett (you know, the guy who plays the President on TV) famously said, “I was elected to represent all the people, not just the ones who agree with me.” Who will be perceived as being better able to do that—Kucinich or Edwards?
4) Which brings me to my final point: Electibility. Yes, yes, that’s a defeatist attitude, if we keep saying Kucinich isn’t electible, he won’t be. Well, that’s what I said about Nader in 2000. Now, I don’t blame Nader (or my voting for him) for the theft of the White House by Bush. I blame the people who did actually vote for Bush (though to be fair who would’ve thought he’d be this bad?); I blame Al Gore for not having a more dynamic and appealing campaign; and most of all I blame the wimpy damn congress who allowed the whole travesty to be foisted upon the people and the world. Now, if Kucinich gets the nomination, he will certainly have my vote and my blessing. But I don’t believe he will, nor do I believe he can win the majority of votes in the US. And when you’re in a hole this deep, the first thing you gotta do is stop digging. As far as I can see, John Edwards has the biggest shovel.
5) Now, I would personally be thrilled to death for the US to make a huge surge to the left—hell, let’s put those damned French to shame!—and I would devote every waking minute to helping whoever achieved that surge succeed. But I don’t think it’s going to happen. US people are too scared, too timid, too uneducated, too unaware of their own history—let alone the history of the world—to make such a brave step. This timidity and lack of moral and political courage is all too evident in our elected representatives in congress. I’m furious with the Democrats for continuing to allow the neo-cons to set the agenda, even with a majority in congress. I do appreciate the courage of Kucinich and Gravel—as I applauded the courage of Cynthia McKinney and Barbara Lee (where were the Democratic senators in the Congressional Black Caucus’ calls for an investigation into voter fraud and disenfranchisement); even Republicans like Walter B. Jones Jr (from … wait for it … North Carolina …badum-ching) who challenge the warmongers on every step. I understand that Nancy Pelosi and Harry Reid are working with a very slim majority and they have to be diplomatic—but I can’t help but think that, as smart as these people are, they must be able to come up with ways to outsmart the Bush cabal, whose responses (“I don’t recall” and “I don’t have time to answer a subpoena”) are certainly not evidence of membership in Mensa. Finally, in November, the US people got off their asses and said NO MORE to the neo-con railroad; we have, in fact, done the most that we can within the electoral framework to demand new leadership. Now where the hell is it?
6) And that may be the single most important reason to vote for Edwards. Although he spent one senate term in Washington and thus has some experience in how things work, he is NOT part and parcel of this yin-yang of corporate mouthpieces that both parties seem to have become. Edwards is a new, fresh face. He’s neither a Clinton nor a Bush nor a Reagan (although after 6 years of W, I’m sometimes nostalgic for the “kinder, gentler” Reagan years). We the people seem to have made an awful blunder here in the early years of the new millennium; let’s correct it by voting for a leader whom all of us can live with, and some of us can even admire. I envision an Edwards presidency as one of gracious charm, interested affability, and sincere willingness to listen to and work for the people. He’s been championing the individual against the corporate behemoth for years in private practice—well, isn’t that what we need in a president? Someone who will go against the multi-national Goliath’s to protect all of the individual, hardworking Davids, both in the US and abroad? He’s no Dennis Kucinich—but neither is the US Sweden—or New Zealand.
As a feminist and a long-time supporter of racial justice and equality, I’m saddened by the fact that I can support neither the woman nor the black candidate for 2008 (although I did see an “Oprah/Obama 08” sticker the other day—now, that would be just too damned hard to resist). At this monumental time in US political history, alas, my candidate is the rich white male. But hey, isn’t that the whole point—that it be not the “color of his skin” or her gender, but the content of character, on which we base our vote? Surely the choices we have this election cycle in the Democratic Party reflect how very far we have come in such a short time.
Being from North Carolina, however, and having a hugely sentimental bias towards the state, I have wanted to support Edwards ever since 2000. Like other Pinklers—and indeed, the majority of my leftist friends—I questioned his “slickness,” his multi-million dollar residence, his record victories in high-priced law cases. And by the time Election Day 2004 came around, my enthusiasm for Kerry was so deflated, Edwards’ name on the ticket hardly caused a blip in my blood pressure. Like in 1988, however, when “Duke til you puke” was as excited as we leftists could get about the Dukakis-Benson ticket, I voted democrat. Fat lot of good that did.
John Edwards, however, really attracted my notice when, instead of taking a high-powered corporate or political job as his status as vice-presidential candidate would have allowed, he chose to head up the Center on Poverty, Work and Opportunity in Chapel Hill, North Carolina. At that point, I would’ve thought, he could’ve traded his profile and charisma for either big money or heavy duty Washington power. He did neither, instead working for an organization that has neither glamour nor prestige. This, of course, may have had something to do with his wife, Elizabeth’s, breast cancer diagnosis on election day—I was exceedingly disappointed when, after stating with great passion and sincerity, “We will count every vote,” Edwards caved so easily when it was clear that irregularities in Ohio cast every shadow on the election’s legitimacy. But I forgave him with tears in my eyes when he and his wife announced her cancer; with such a heavy emotional blow (on a family that had already suffered so much), I thought, how can I blame him for conserving his energy to support his wife during her illness.
Since that time, however, I have given Edwards a lot of thought, and have concluded that he is the best candidate for president in the current race, for a number of reasons.
1) He’s a Southerner. In case the Democrats, and indeed, liberals, leftists and progressives, haven’t noticed, the last two Democrats to win the White House have been from the South. And unlike Georgia and Arkansas, North Carolina is not a “deep South” state, mired in the poverty and racism that traditionally characterize some of her neighbors. North Carolina was nearly evenly divided between seceding from the Union and staying, because its economic base consisted as much of small (non-slave owning) farmers as it did big plantations. That relative egalitarianism has developed over the last 150 years in NC—one of the first Southern states to “recover” from reconstruction, the state has maintained a better and more equal standard of living than almost any other state in the South. NC had its share of Civil Rights activities—and there were no Bull Conners, no dogs and water hoses turned on the folks at the Woolworth’s counter in Winston-Salem. There were some issues with integration, particularly in the southeast; but North Carolina also has several old and well-respected traditional black universities. Edwards was born—as is often touted to add to his “rags to riches” credibility—to a textile mill worker in South Carolina, a southern state never known for its progressive attitude. But that he chose to go to university and then to live in North Carolina is a fact I count to his credit.
2) I have yet to hear John Edwards spout the same old xenophobic rhetoric about how the US is the greatest nation on Earth, etc, etc—while it bubbles like an over-full septic system from the lips of every other mainstream candidate. WHAT, exactly, is the US greatest at? As Bill Maher recently noted, the US “isn't ranked anywhere near first in anything except military might and snotty billionaires” (http://www.salon.com/opinion/feature/2007/05/04/france/index.html). I have lived in a number of other countries, most of which have nowhere near the economic clout or democratic foundations the US claims; and yet the standards of living for the majority of the people in those countries is so much better than that of the US, it’s shocking. For one thing, they all have national health care, which is a great relief both financially and psychologically; when you never have to choose between eating, paying a bill, or going to a doctor, that’s a huge weight off your shoulders.
I love that John Edwards talks about the problems of this country, the two
Americas—older lefties may remember Michael Harrington’s book, The Other America, which heavily influenced JFK’s and Johnson’s “War on Poverty.” I haven’t researched his writing enough to know if his ideas come from the same populist movement that influenced Harrington, but it doesn’t matter where he got the ideas as long as he’s sincere about them. Coming from the textile worker’s background as he does, he surely has memories and experience of a lower working class lifestyle.
** Note on the $400 haircut: Maybe if the US people weren’t so damned shallow, choosing a president like they do an “American Idol”, Edwards (and other candidates) wouldn’t have to be so concerned about image, calling in top dollar cosmetic services because they are so busy on the campaign trail (raising money, mind you, not actually campaigning yet) that they don’t have time to go to their regular barber. Maybe, if the US people (and I’ll acknowledge that it might be the media who’s doing it, not the people) actually cared about substance instead of style, a candidate could appear in a public forum without having to worry about looking like a movie star—be it haircuts, makeovers, face-lifts, or teeth-whitening.
3) And speaking of which, let’s talk about that multi-million dollar house. Sure, it’s extravagant. But isn’t that the whole idea of the American dream, to come from poverty and go to wealth? It’s not my dream to be one of the super rich (which, incidentally, Edwards is not) nor clearly is it that of my fellow Pinklers; but isn’t it the dream—that has been touted and fostered as the ultimate possibility in this country—of many US people? Sure, Dennis Kucinich reflects, much more than John Edwards, my ideals in both his lifestyle and his politics—but does he reflect the ideals of the majority of US people? As Jeb Bartlett (you know, the guy who plays the President on TV) famously said, “I was elected to represent all the people, not just the ones who agree with me.” Who will be perceived as being better able to do that—Kucinich or Edwards?
4) Which brings me to my final point: Electibility. Yes, yes, that’s a defeatist attitude, if we keep saying Kucinich isn’t electible, he won’t be. Well, that’s what I said about Nader in 2000. Now, I don’t blame Nader (or my voting for him) for the theft of the White House by Bush. I blame the people who did actually vote for Bush (though to be fair who would’ve thought he’d be this bad?); I blame Al Gore for not having a more dynamic and appealing campaign; and most of all I blame the wimpy damn congress who allowed the whole travesty to be foisted upon the people and the world. Now, if Kucinich gets the nomination, he will certainly have my vote and my blessing. But I don’t believe he will, nor do I believe he can win the majority of votes in the US. And when you’re in a hole this deep, the first thing you gotta do is stop digging. As far as I can see, John Edwards has the biggest shovel.
5) Now, I would personally be thrilled to death for the US to make a huge surge to the left—hell, let’s put those damned French to shame!—and I would devote every waking minute to helping whoever achieved that surge succeed. But I don’t think it’s going to happen. US people are too scared, too timid, too uneducated, too unaware of their own history—let alone the history of the world—to make such a brave step. This timidity and lack of moral and political courage is all too evident in our elected representatives in congress. I’m furious with the Democrats for continuing to allow the neo-cons to set the agenda, even with a majority in congress. I do appreciate the courage of Kucinich and Gravel—as I applauded the courage of Cynthia McKinney and Barbara Lee (where were the Democratic senators in the Congressional Black Caucus’ calls for an investigation into voter fraud and disenfranchisement); even Republicans like Walter B. Jones Jr (from … wait for it … North Carolina …badum-ching) who challenge the warmongers on every step. I understand that Nancy Pelosi and Harry Reid are working with a very slim majority and they have to be diplomatic—but I can’t help but think that, as smart as these people are, they must be able to come up with ways to outsmart the Bush cabal, whose responses (“I don’t recall” and “I don’t have time to answer a subpoena”) are certainly not evidence of membership in Mensa. Finally, in November, the US people got off their asses and said NO MORE to the neo-con railroad; we have, in fact, done the most that we can within the electoral framework to demand new leadership. Now where the hell is it?
6) And that may be the single most important reason to vote for Edwards. Although he spent one senate term in Washington and thus has some experience in how things work, he is NOT part and parcel of this yin-yang of corporate mouthpieces that both parties seem to have become. Edwards is a new, fresh face. He’s neither a Clinton nor a Bush nor a Reagan (although after 6 years of W, I’m sometimes nostalgic for the “kinder, gentler” Reagan years). We the people seem to have made an awful blunder here in the early years of the new millennium; let’s correct it by voting for a leader whom all of us can live with, and some of us can even admire. I envision an Edwards presidency as one of gracious charm, interested affability, and sincere willingness to listen to and work for the people. He’s been championing the individual against the corporate behemoth for years in private practice—well, isn’t that what we need in a president? Someone who will go against the multi-national Goliath’s to protect all of the individual, hardworking Davids, both in the US and abroad? He’s no Dennis Kucinich—but neither is the US Sweden—or New Zealand.
As a feminist and a long-time supporter of racial justice and equality, I’m saddened by the fact that I can support neither the woman nor the black candidate for 2008 (although I did see an “Oprah/Obama 08” sticker the other day—now, that would be just too damned hard to resist). At this monumental time in US political history, alas, my candidate is the rich white male. But hey, isn’t that the whole point—that it be not the “color of his skin” or her gender, but the content of character, on which we base our vote? Surely the choices we have this election cycle in the Democratic Party reflect how very far we have come in such a short time.
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
Activist Burnout and the GOOD NEWS
Ok, back at the Pink House, having taken Ann Wright to the airport and gotten her opinions on how leaving Iraq is the best thing we can do for them; on Hugo Chavez and how his recent shutdown of opposition TV is bad for his international image; on her choice to become a peace activist after 29 years of military service; and on how Adam Kokesh of IVAW is facing a revocation of his honorable discharge status because of his anti-war activities and disrespect to superior officers, and how PTSD is affecting his actions.
At that comment I also think of Cindy Sheehan, who announced today that she has resigned as the “face” of the Peace Movement, in part because of criticism from the groups and people who should be on her side (my interpretation, not Cindy’s words). Commentary in the Pink House mentioned Cindy also having been affected PTSD—but also, Cindy has organizing and protesting and confronting and speaking truth to power almost nonstop since her son Casey died in Iraq 3 years ago. She has to be burnt out. And this put me in mind of a young man I met yesterday who walked with us and Nick Kimbrell on the last leg of Nick’s journey from Charlottesville to DC in support of bringing the troops home.
Jeff of World Can’t Wait is 19 years old and angry. I accused him of being cynical, but perhaps that was harsh. His anger is certainly justified—when I first got active (back in the Reagan years, which seemed so frightening then but now in retrospect seem like the “kinder, gentler” days) I was angry too. I didn’t see much hope for the future. I was furious about US interventions throughout Central and South America (it would be 10 years before I learnt about Allende in Chile and Lumumba in Zaire) and the fact that despite Roe vs Wade and a clear 2/3rd majority in favor of choice, we were still fighting that battle when there were so many more that needed out attention.
This kind of anger and energy can be good if channeled into positive action. But (with the hindsight of wisdom) I realize that I burnt out being so angry all the time, never allowing the pleasure of enjoying small gains and taking pride in small victories. It was never enough, the voice in my head always said, “Gotta do more, gotta do more”—kind of like the house in D.H. Lawrence’s, “Rockinghorse Winner”: “More money, more money.”
Now, I try to take time to realize and celebrate every victory, even the tiny ones, even the ones that seem so insignificant in the face of so much carnage and horror. The problem is, I often don’t remember to do it until confronted by someone like Jeff, who—no matter what I offered him as a positive step, had a reason why it wasn’t good enough. He’s right. It’s not good enough. It’s never going to be good enough until we have peace and justice for all people—and for the Earth as well. I returned to the US after living most of the last 15 years abroad not because I like living in the US better—I don’t, though there are definitely some wonderful things about this country that I miss when I live abroad; more about that in another missive—but because as a US citizen, even if I’m not living here, what this country does is my responsibility. What this country does reaches almost ever crack and crevice in the world—so not only is there no escaping it, there’s also no forgetting it. In order to live here, be active, and not have regular nervous breakdowns, however, I have to constantly remind myself of the positive changes that have occurred in my lifetime—even, shockingly enough, during the Bush administration. Here are a few:
- When I was 19, if someone told me that in 2007 the two leading candidates for president would be a woman and a black man, I would never have believed them. For the first time in my life, not to mention those of my parents’ and preceding generations’, Dr. King’s dream that people would be judged “not by the color of [their] skin (or their gender) but by the content of [their] character” has been actualized. Of course, that content is still questionable. But the fact that the vast majority of US people have got beyond color and gender is something of a miracle.
- The most powerful diplomat in the US government is a black woman. I thought having Madeline Albright as secretary of state was an accomplishment (no matter how much I disagreed with her perspective), but Condoleeza Rice is another miracle. As a feminist and a Southerner, I admire and am proud of her, although I disagree with everything she says and the administration she works for. I don’t believe that it’s better to have a woman in the job if she doesn’t do a good job—but I do believe that it’s fabulous to have women in public positions, in order to show little girls what they can do with their lives, and little boys that it’s OK for women to be powerful.
- The next person in line for the presidency after those two war criminals is a woman. If we can get congress to act on what are without a doubt some of the greatest crimes committed by the executive branch of the US government in history, we could even have a woman president.
- There has been a sudden, monumental shift in mainstream attitudes toward the environment and climate change. I had despaired of this ever happening; it’s my primary concern as a progressive because, hey, even if we stop all the wars and eradicate racism, sexism, homophobia, child abuse, poverty and disease, it doesn’t matter if we can’t breathe the air and drink the water or don’t have habitable land. Thank you, [legitimate President] Al Gore, and while I don’t know what kind of president you would’ve been, your work over the last couple of years is invaluable, not just to this country but to the whole world.
- And last but certainly not least, the technological revolution has made activism and organizing on a global scale not only possible, but unavoidable. I love Bob Geldof, and Band Aid and Live Aid were the greatest events of my generation, but I’m really fucked off with him about his snide remarks about Al Gore and Live Earth. This is an essential cause (see above) and, like poverty, it is a moral issue, not a political one. Raising consciousness and giving hope are absolutely imperative in these scary, dark times; and Geldof does the organizers of this event a grave disservice. Imagine what Live Aid could’ve accomplished in 1985 with the Internet? I don’t know all the details of Gore’s plan for Live Earth, but as the “inventor” of the Internet, I’m sure that the Information Superhighway will be packed with travelers for this event.
There are hundreds, thousands, perhaps millions more bits of good news here and there that we can all indulge in from time to time. So at the risk of being called Pollyanna (I have always loved the name, though), I will say before you burn out, indulge in a little good news—remember, even activists cannot live on rage alone!
kk
PS A new book out by one of my heroes, Riane Eisler, is The Real Wealth of Nations: Creating a Caring Economy is a great treatise on the things that are or could be (with just a little help and attention) good news and progress. Author of The Chalice and the Blade, which challenges dominator (some might call “patriarchal”) social structures as the only model, and offers up another possible—and in many places and times existing—structure, the partnership model. The Real Wealth of Nations further analyzes the potential for and current movement toward this more humane, more sustainable, and ultimately only social structure for a viable future.
Sunday, May 27, 2007
What are Femifesta?
Femifesta? OK, the reason for the name is not rabid “PC-ness” (b/c that sort of pedantic PC-ness gets on my tits as much as anyone’s). Although I do believe in finding and using gender neutral terms for every possible title—fire-fighter, police officer, post- or mail-carrier, chair or chair person (I prefer facilitator or leader, however, as no person is a chair)—the “man” of manifesto is not from the masculine noun but from the root “manu” meaning by hand. So one of the things this Blog is going to do is define words. I begin with defining what I mean by Femifesta (plural of femifesto, because it is not one, but many ideas that make up my femifesta) …
According to my the Miriam-Webster online dictionary, manifesto means "a written statement declaring publicly the intentions, motives, or views of its issuer". The basis for my creation is, of course, Marx’s Communist Manifesto, which deconstructed many issues of the modern world and its economies, but unfortunately ignored what may be the single most pressing element: ie, unpaid labor of women, which results from the patriarchal value of power as the primary value of society. This is not the “power” of personal empowerment, but rather power over, meaning control through fear and violence, as opposed to value and respect for life, pleasure and happiness. It’s true that the US Declaration of Independence was the first document to recognize “pursuit of happiness” as an inalienable human right—just over 200 years ago, it’s a new concept on an evolutionary stage, one that we really have not had time to get our heads around. A shame, really, considering that biologists believe that the modern dog may have evolved from the wolf in just one (human) generation (“Dogs That Changed the World,” Nature two-part special, PBS, 22 and 29 April, 2007), but nevermind.
In ignoring the unpaid labor of women around the world—and regardless of class, women always do more work than men; of course, women of “upper” or leisure classes do less work relative to women of lower classes or even perhaps men of lower classes. But within their own class, and as a class of their own, women do the vast majority (UN Council on the Status of Women says 2/3 to 3/4) of all the work in the world. That being the larger half of the human population and doing the majority of the work does not translate, in a free-market economy, to owning the majority of the wealth; or in a collective economy, to controlling—or at least leading—the decision-making process, is neither logical nor just. From a supply and demand economics point of view, women supply the majority of necessary labor for the world—from the 1st world to the 4th world—to function. From a centralized economic point of view—from those according to their ability, to those according to their needs—women also have proven much more “able” than men, to multi-task, to provide sustenance, to nurture, to educate, to motivate, to manage, to lead and to cooperate, than men. I do not argue that these traits and abilities are either biological or environmental, only that, as the world exists today, they are generally true.
Consequently, from both production and service point of view, women should be valued more than men as essential to society—even leaving by our ability to reproduce virtually on our own, thanks to artificial means; or even literally, by parthenogenesis, although that has not yet been shown to work for humans.
Of course, we are not. That is because, as Marilyn French argues, the modern, patriarchal world values power over life, control over pleasure. If we as a species—or even as western society, or the nation of the USA—could shift our value system—and it would be a dramatic shift indeed—it would transform the way the world “as we know it.” A male friend of mine, no friend to feminism, once said to me, “If men were to express their real feelings, civilization as we know it would collapse.” Hear hear—let’s do whatever we can to bring about that collapse. As another male—not a personal friend, but a friend to the species and to justice—when asked what he thought of “Western Civilisation”, answered, “I think it would be a good idea” (Mohandas Mahatma Gandhi).
So Femifesta will define the ideals, goals, practices and campaigns that I believe necessary to create a society where “pursuit of happiness” gets as fair a go as any other guiding principle in the modern world. And I am hopeful (although perhaps I too have been brainwashed by too many years of “trickle down” rhetoric) that if Western society can find learn to value pursuit of happiness and pleasure over power and control, that our corresponding release of fear and anxiety will result in a determination, even need, to help the rest of the world achieve the inalienable rights to life, liberty, and pursuit of happiness. Nor do I think it can really be a one-sided venture—many, many poor societies in the world have many people who, despite poverty and minimal standards of living, exhibit elements of humanity and nurturing for their fellows quite unknown in Western society. We, who have all the money and “stuff”, have not the compassion of millions in India, China, Indonesia, and small tribes of individuals all over the world whose generosity and openness to Westerners has, in general (except for in a few isolated aberrations), diminished very little despite 500 years of its being devalued, debased, and used as rationalization for genocide throughout the southern hemisphere.
According to my the Miriam-Webster online dictionary, manifesto means "a written statement declaring publicly the intentions, motives, or views of its issuer". The basis for my creation is, of course, Marx’s Communist Manifesto, which deconstructed many issues of the modern world and its economies, but unfortunately ignored what may be the single most pressing element: ie, unpaid labor of women, which results from the patriarchal value of power as the primary value of society. This is not the “power” of personal empowerment, but rather power over, meaning control through fear and violence, as opposed to value and respect for life, pleasure and happiness. It’s true that the US Declaration of Independence was the first document to recognize “pursuit of happiness” as an inalienable human right—just over 200 years ago, it’s a new concept on an evolutionary stage, one that we really have not had time to get our heads around. A shame, really, considering that biologists believe that the modern dog may have evolved from the wolf in just one (human) generation (“Dogs That Changed the World,” Nature two-part special, PBS, 22 and 29 April, 2007), but nevermind.
In ignoring the unpaid labor of women around the world—and regardless of class, women always do more work than men; of course, women of “upper” or leisure classes do less work relative to women of lower classes or even perhaps men of lower classes. But within their own class, and as a class of their own, women do the vast majority (UN Council on the Status of Women says 2/3 to 3/4) of all the work in the world. That being the larger half of the human population and doing the majority of the work does not translate, in a free-market economy, to owning the majority of the wealth; or in a collective economy, to controlling—or at least leading—the decision-making process, is neither logical nor just. From a supply and demand economics point of view, women supply the majority of necessary labor for the world—from the 1st world to the 4th world—to function. From a centralized economic point of view—from those according to their ability, to those according to their needs—women also have proven much more “able” than men, to multi-task, to provide sustenance, to nurture, to educate, to motivate, to manage, to lead and to cooperate, than men. I do not argue that these traits and abilities are either biological or environmental, only that, as the world exists today, they are generally true.
Consequently, from both production and service point of view, women should be valued more than men as essential to society—even leaving by our ability to reproduce virtually on our own, thanks to artificial means; or even literally, by parthenogenesis, although that has not yet been shown to work for humans.
Of course, we are not. That is because, as Marilyn French argues, the modern, patriarchal world values power over life, control over pleasure. If we as a species—or even as western society, or the nation of the USA—could shift our value system—and it would be a dramatic shift indeed—it would transform the way the world “as we know it.” A male friend of mine, no friend to feminism, once said to me, “If men were to express their real feelings, civilization as we know it would collapse.” Hear hear—let’s do whatever we can to bring about that collapse. As another male—not a personal friend, but a friend to the species and to justice—when asked what he thought of “Western Civilisation”, answered, “I think it would be a good idea” (Mohandas Mahatma Gandhi).
So Femifesta will define the ideals, goals, practices and campaigns that I believe necessary to create a society where “pursuit of happiness” gets as fair a go as any other guiding principle in the modern world. And I am hopeful (although perhaps I too have been brainwashed by too many years of “trickle down” rhetoric) that if Western society can find learn to value pursuit of happiness and pleasure over power and control, that our corresponding release of fear and anxiety will result in a determination, even need, to help the rest of the world achieve the inalienable rights to life, liberty, and pursuit of happiness. Nor do I think it can really be a one-sided venture—many, many poor societies in the world have many people who, despite poverty and minimal standards of living, exhibit elements of humanity and nurturing for their fellows quite unknown in Western society. We, who have all the money and “stuff”, have not the compassion of millions in India, China, Indonesia, and small tribes of individuals all over the world whose generosity and openness to Westerners has, in general (except for in a few isolated aberrations), diminished very little despite 500 years of its being devalued, debased, and used as rationalization for genocide throughout the southern hemisphere.
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