Category Archive

From her collection of essays, Sister Outsider. Because sometimes, when we are at a loss for words, we should turn to the writing of the people who help us to remember that we are not alone.

“Racism, the belief in the inherent superiority of one race over all others and thereby the right to dominance. Sexism, the belief in the inherent superiority of one sex over the other and thereby the right to dominance. Ageism. Heterosexism. Elitism. Classism.

It is a lifetime pursuit for each one of us to extract these distortions from our living at the same time as we recognize, reclaim, and define those differences upon which they are imposed. For we have all been raised in a society where those distortions were endemic within our living. Too often, we pour the energy needed for recognizing and exploring difference into pretending those differences are insurmountable barriers, or that they do not exist at all. This results in a voluntary isolation, or false and treacherous connections. Either way, we do not develop tools for using human difference as a springboard for creative change…

Ignoring the differences of race between women and the implications of those differences presents the most serious threat to mobilization of women’s joint power.

As white women ignore their built-in privilege of whiteness and define woman in terms of their own experience alone, then women of Color become “other,” the outsider whose experience and tradition is too “alien” to comprehend…

The literatures of all women of Color recreate the textures of our lives, and many white women are heavily invested in ignoring the real differences. For as long as any difference between us means one of us must be inferior, then the recognition of any difference must be fraught with guilt. To allow women of Color to step out of stereotypes is too guilt provoking, for it threatens the complacency of those women who view oppression only in terms of sex.

Refusing to recognize difference makes it impossible to see the different problems and pitfalls facing us as women.

Thus, in a patriarchal power system where whiteskin privilege is a major prop, the entrapments used to neutralize Black women and white women are not the same…

Some problems we share as women, some we do not. You fear your children will grow up to join the patriarchy and testify against you, we fear our children will be dragged from a car and shot down in the street, and you will turn your backs upon the reasons they are dying…”

A brief note: this post is meant to be often sarcastic and sometimes ironic and even a bit harsh. Heaven forbid a woman use such narrative techniques to express her anger towards issues of patriarchy in and out of the classroom! But in all seriousness, this rant is in response to so many liberal men that I run into that I end up in conversations with, only to walk away frustrated at how simple considerations are completely ignored during these interactions. Enjoy.

Dear Mr. Liberal,

It has come to my attention that while all this time I have been worried that I was unable to talk to you, due to your performance of charm or wit or intelligence or social acceptability, in fact it is you who is unable to speak to me, due to your inability to actively acknowledge your privilege as a male in and outside the classroom. For your convenience, I have listed a few of your many offenses, in hopes of clearing up some of my concerns, and providing answers to the claim, “I don’t understand what the problem is”

1. Listen with your ears, not with your interrupting mouth. I’m sure you’re really eager to prove to yourself and everyone around you that you understand what I’m saying - hey, maybe I haven’t heard about that article in the paper yet, or maybe there’s something neat that happened to you last week that is sort of related to what I’m saying or maybe you found a quote in this book that adds to my point- It really doesn’t matter when I can’t get through what I’m saying because you cut me off. It also doesn’t “make it all better” to throw something in afterwards like “Oh sorry. What were you saying?” Don’t tell me what a good listener everyone thinks you are when I’m in the middle of telling you something. I know this might hurt, but sometimes, it’s ok when you can’t hear your voice in a room. It’s even ok not to be the first person to bring up a particular point. Remember, listening when I’m talking doesn’t necessarily mean that you are not engaged in a conversation.

2. If you simply have to interrupt, try to remember that I was telling a story. Mr. Liberal, you have such a tendency to go off on some sort of tangent and upon returning, you do not acknowledge that I was in the middle of a story. I shouldn’t have to use the phrase “what I was saying was…” I’m going to make it really easy for you, too and list out some of the things that I personally think are appropriate to use after your rude interruption:

“Wow, sorry for interrupting you, I got so excited about that thing I wanted to tell you. But you were talking about ____ ___ and I really want to hear the rest of the story/more about it”

“I’m so rude. So what happened with ______?”

I even have an example of what to do if you are just bored and really don’t want to hear what I have to say! (Because, yes, I’ll admit, that definitely happens)

“So sorry to interrupt. I actually have to go [insert excuse here]“

These sentences may be adapted to suit your own personal conversational style. Collect all three! Then try to remember that first point I made, about not interrupting.

3. Ask questions. You know what’s rude? When I ask you a question like, “What did you think about [insert progressive point here]?” and then you spend five minutes talking about it, narrating in circles and finally getting to a point, and then wait for me to ask your opinion about something else. It’s pretty cool when you say “what did you think?” - and yea, I know you think you do that all the time. But trust me. You usually don’t. Questions are good because they are indicators of engaging in conversation.

Don’t want to ask questions because you don’t want to know my opinion?
Good point- why am I even trying to talk to you. Good day, sir.

Don’t want to ask questions because I always ask them?
Hm…you should think about why that is a little more.

4. Don’t patronize me. Isn’t this self explanatory? Let’s hope it is.

5. Try to keep in mind that you carry with you certain entitlements that I will never understand. It’s a good thing you claim to be so well-read and brilliant, because that means you have probably encountered at least one or two texts that elaborate on this statement. It’s tricky, understanding why my eyes glaze over a little while you’re talking, I know. But if you attempt to shift your paradigm a bit, perhaps you’ll see that usually I’m taking into account why you are able to say certain things without hesitation, why you are so confident in your ability to project and perpetuate norms, why you don’t notice that I was in the middle of a sentence, or was waiting for you to engage in a conversation. When we are affirmed at every moment because of a particular part of our identity, it may be difficult to understand why every other individual around us does not “just” do certain things or “just” say certain things or “just” speak up in class. But then, it is also difficult to survive every day when one is subjected to daily violence because they are marginalized in society. So, yeah. I don’t really feel bad for you.

6. Don’t thank me for doing the work you should have done. Take accountability for the fact that you did not do it. This one needs a bit of explanation because it can be easily misinterpreted. One day, I went on a semi-tirade in class about the lack of critical discussion going on, particularly when it came to the colonial apparatus and issues of race/gender (it was a postcolonial literature class, so this was not an unreasonable criticism). After class, a member of your Liberal label approached me and said: “Thanks for saying that. I was going to say that, but I was really tired”

(Funny, so was I.)

With privilege comes the opportunity to step back from the fight without consequence to your own emotional or physical health. Perhaps your friend, dear Liberal, should have simply affirmed my comment instead of making some patronizing excuse as to why they weren’t able to articulate themselves in a moment where criticism of the class became necessary. There are times to thank me for doing work and taking action, and there are times to acknowledge your lack of work. Work on understanding the difference, I beg you.

7. Just because you can point it out in academic text doesn’t mean you get it. Mr. Liberal, you are so well read! You have certainly taken steps in your academic life to educate yourself about issues of gender and possibly race or class or sexual orientation. You’re at a point even, where you can read a novel or essay or article, and point out the problematics of the text. Maybe you even get to this point before some of the other women in the class, because you’re just so eager to share your wealth of knowledge.

Maybe if I wrote a story about a Liberal Man who interrupted women, never offered to take notes during meetings, never took accountability for their lack of effort, never directly admitted to their participation in patriarchal norms, and felt the need to prove his awareness of gender dynamics at the cost of silencing women in the classroom, you would be able to see that your understanding of theory does not translate into your everyday praxis.

8. Read some articles that make you uncomfortable and possibly knock you off your high liberal pedestal.

Laurelin has a great letter to Leftist men that you should read. And in case you never got around to understanding male privilege, here’s this for you - actually that site is where I will start recommending all the Liberal Men I run into in my day to day life, who want me to educate them 24/7. Then, you should read every single thing on this site.

And so Mr. Liberal, I have reached the end of my letter. Take care and remember, you can’t call yourself progressive when you aren’t making any progress.

-obw.

need to read something like the following:

as soon as we thought of marrying, our first few conversations included gender politics. included domestic violence. included cheating in marriages, and our views on divorce. we have both resolved to test for hiv before getting married. “romantic”? no. but sure as hell reassuring, and realistic.

we’ve worked our way through several issues to keep our wedding as in line with our politics as possible. we’ve had long talks about what rituals we’ll have, how we’ll organise our house, our personal comfort levels in conforming to gender dictates - and those talks haven’t just been between us, we’ve obviously had to talk to everyone else involved. a lot of hard work, but well worth the investment

The whole post can be found here at Scribble Pad.

I’ve waited a while to read something like this, and in the midst of dealing with many appearance/future related demons in the last month (which I am just beginning to write about - and blog about), this was what I needed to put a tear in my eye and reignite my faith in what m. so rightly describes as the “happily and political ever after”.

I wrote the entire post - it took me two hours. I was so looking forward to putting it all up.

And then wordpress did not save the draft even though it said it had and it is lost forever. It was such a good post. It was such a well written post and it simply cannot be replicated. Nothing you’re about to read will be as good as what are now mere ashes floating in cyberspace.

It’s one of those days where this kind of thing makes me get so mad and then I just cry for 10 minutes and then it’s over.

So instead of finishing up my work at home this afternoon, I will be attempting to rewrite the post as well as trying not to mumble profanities while doing so.

I have spent nearly a month going back and forth between commenting on the New York Times article that was published regarding skin lightening creams in India. As a U.S. citizen and inhabitant of the First World/Global North, I find myself so weary of commenting on trends or situations of this kind that are taking place in the Global South/Third World/developing countries (from here on out I will be using the term developing countries). It’s very easy to get caught in the mindset that somehow, one’s education or upbringing or condition or geography grants the person some kind of right or privilege to decide what is best or appropriate for another community of people. It’s easy to get swept into the postmodern missionary system, where phrases like “helping” and “saving” become ways of further removing agency from those communities. Language is an important and influential thing. So I’m going to try very hard not to get caught up in deciding what is right or wrong about skin lightening in India, and focus on the argument that is being made about the companies that are making these creams. This is a complicated issue because it speaks volumes about the larger issues that are at play here - the media and advertising, sexism in the workplace, long histories of patriarchy, and globalization.

I will be referring to this article here - entitled “Telling India’s modern women they have power, even over their skin tone” - it is an archived article so I’m not sure if there will be full access to it. Maybe someone will find a link to the article on another website. For now I will be putting up small excerpts from the article in order to talk about a few things that I thought were a big problem.

“The modern Indian woman is independent, in charge — and does not have to live with her dark skin.

That is the message from a growing number of global cosmetics and skin care companies, which are expanding their product lines and advertising budgets in India to capitalize on growth in women’s disposable income. A common thread involves creams and soaps that are said to lighten skin tone. Often they are peddled with a ”power” message about taking charge or getting ahead.

Avon, L’Oréal, Ponds, Garnier, the Body Shop and Jolen are selling lightening products and all of them face stiff competition from a local giant, Fair and Lovely, a Unilever product that has dominated the market for decades.

Fair and Lovely, with packaging that shows a dark-skinned unhappy woman morphing into a light-skinned smiling one, once focused its advertising on the problems a dark-skinned woman might face finding romance. In a sign of the times, the company’s ads now show lighter skin conferring a different advantage: helping a woman land a job normally held by men, like announcer at cricket matches. ”Fair and Lovely: The Power of Beauty,” is the tagline on the company’s newest ad”

Fair and Lovely’s advertising has always been targeted to dark skinned and often working class women who should lighten their skin if they want that promotion, or a job, or respect, or a husband. You might YouTube some advertisements of the company - they often depict women who are shunned by some high power executive or modeling agency or studio run by Western-clothes-wearing-light-skinned-Indian folk. Then they go back to their homes and use the cream and transform into similar looking W.c.w.l.s.I.f and everyone is so taken aback at how good they look and then they look so happy and youthful now that they have new skin. The problem goes beyond the issue of telling women that they can obtain lighter skin and invoke more opportunities - the problem is that this company is reflecting companies and workplaces that do in fact discriminate against women who have darker skin, or are not from global cities like Bombay or Delhi. Before I go on, I will say that this is not an exclusive characteristic of developing countries - the U.S. still, albeit not necessarily as overtly, privileges certain women over others in the job market and in everyday situations and discriminate based on gender (how much do you look like a woman), color, race, age, sexuality and class (where did you go to school, what kind of education have you pursued, etc.). The advertising for products like Fair and Lovely (and for newer lightening creams made by L’oreal - called White Perfect - big sirens going off in my head about that) continues to enforce certain color and regional and class related prejudices in communities.

Here’s the thing that I really want to get into though.

“‘Half of the skin care market in India is fairness creams,” said Didier Villanueva, country manager for L’Oréal India, and 60 to 65 percent of Indian women use these products daily. L’Oréal entered this specific market four years ago with Garnier and L’Oréal products, but so far has a small market share, he said.

The idea of ”glowing fairness” has nothing to do with colonialism, or idealization of European looks, Mr. Villanueva said. ”It’s as old as India,” he said, and ”deeply rooted in the culture.”

There’s no denying that the notion of ”fairness,” as light skin is known in India, is heavily ingrained in the culture. Nearly all of Bollywood’s top actresses have quite pale skin, despite the range of skin tones in India’s population of more than a billion people.”

Fairness has nothing to do with colonialism or the idealization of European looks?? Oh Mr. Villanueva, what a silly man you are. Because what you should have reminded the large population of people who read the New York Times and use quotes from authentic Indians as facts about the entire Indian population is that while fairness, i.e. light skin, has indeed been privileged in Indian culture for years before British colonization, it doesn’t mean colonialism didn’t reinforce the power of white skin.

I remember extended family members always reminding me of the many things that can apparently make you dark - don’t be out in the sun too long. Don’t drink so much tea (did anybody get that one?) it will make your skin dark. I had the feeling that everything that young girls weren’t supposed to do was rooted to dark skin. Dark skin, at least for North Indian communities, meant you worked in the sun. Maybe you couldn’t afford servants. It meant you were poor or working class. But if anybody thinks that privileging white skin didn’t get reinforced by white folk coming to India and taking over the entire nation, then I’m going to go as far as to say maybe they’re in a bit of denial. Because with the white skin of Britain came whiteness and white privilege and those things become very tied together. So while fairness doesn’t have everything to do with colonialism or whiteness, it sure as hell as something to do with it.

I read some comments floating around the internet, and on the Sephora blog, that compares skin lightening in India to tanning in the U.S. This is a very interesting comparison to me, because from the outside it appears to be a valid one. But I’m going to argue that it isn’t and here’s why in a nutshell: when white people tan, they aren’t stripping themselves of any kind of white privilege that they have - I understand that there is a stigma about white people being considered “pasty and unattractive” but tanning does not strip white people from the privileges that they benefit from because of their race. In fact, tanning is a way of benefiting from the exotic-ness and trendy appeal that comes from dark skin without the racism and colorism that many if not most people of color face in their day to day lives. Lightening one’s skin strips brown folk of oppressions that they will encounter based on the way they look. Tanning is a luxury. Skin lightening is a process that is created out of the institutions that tell women (and men) that it is a product of survival. Big. Difference.

I’m going to end on this final reinforcement - this is a complex issue. Not because skin lightening creams are a big issue - education is an issue. Poverty is an issue. Patriarchy is an issue. And they are issues everywhere. Skin lightening creams, and that NY Times article, is an issue because it is a testament to these larger issues. It is a lens through which issues of race and color and gender need to be challenged and talked about. It is a portal through which whiteness and patriarchy and media can be discussed.

Now I am going to save this post in three different programs and proofread and publish it.

Crossposted at feministe 

That said, I will be writing. My academic writing is my first priority these days and I don’t have to time to write papers and keep a blog consistently. I used to be able to before. But it seems I only have the capacity these days for one or the other.

I have however continue to read blogs daily and there are so many posts I always want to link to. Here are a few - not all are very recent, but they are all worth reading.

1. Bollywood and the Oscars. Ok there are two reasons why I love this post. One, I completely agree. India can never be allowed to submit “universal” films. It always has to be specific to Indianness or Indian culture (whatever that means). Two, I found out the author is a friend of one of my professors whom I respect a lot.

2. Tyra Tyra Tyra… Racialicious continues to be the blog I read most frequently (can you blame me? how can one resist the daily stories that appear about race in the media), and this post on Tyra Banks and her talk about body image are… I don’t know if I can find the words. Her sports illustrated cover makes her look even more stretched out than she does on the show. How many women of color do I know have the curves (or lack thereof) that she does? Yeah. Thought so.

3. Male privilege! Ah, Andrea, I’m so glad you continue to write for shrub.com - it makes me so happy. This is a great overview of how male privilege is seen in discussions about sexism, that comes down to the reality that being a pro-feminist man means stepping up.

4. ” Is it okay to work this damn much for the desire of trying to create change?” I’ve read this post so many times because I realized in the last week that I am probably going to go into academia and pursue a career as a professor. And there are too many questions and fears related to this question of work, and whether or not it is great work, and whether or not it is worth it, especially in thinking about “future things” such as children, and family (in fact so many questions, that this is what my next blog post is about). I really love the blog in general too, particularly the new look - it’s one of the few blogs that keeps me inspired to write!

Until next time.

I gave up on the Asian vs. South Asian post. I tried writing it so many times and then realized that 1) it makes me too mad to want to write about and 2) I don’t really have any conclusions about it. Since I think about it all the time, I don’t really want to blog about it.

Here’s what I do want to write about.

The Nice Guy. I’ll link here and here before moving on with my own additions and expansions of appearing to be and being a nice guy. Read them, reread them. Lovely things are being said.

I used to think I met a lot of nice guys (just a disclaimer: since I’m about to sarcastically and unforgivingly tear apart the myth of the nice guy, let me just say that i use the term to refer to straight men.). And you know what? I do. I meet nice guys all the time. They are polite, and they open the door for you and they don’t raise their voice or run away when you challenge their views. They are smart and have a good and unsexist sense of humor. They walk their drunk women friends back to their rooms on Saturday nights and don’t take advantage of them.

Ah nice guys. “He’s such a nice guy!”. I hear it all the time. And every time, I also hear the click of the bar being lowered a notch or two - the bar of “nice guy” standards.

Here’s what I’ve learned in the last year. Nice Guys - real nice guys (see links above) are not common. They are very rare. And one of the reasons why this can be hard to figure out is because nice guys often disguise themselves as Nice Guys. nice guys cover the basics - but when it comes to speaking up or owning up to one’s own privilege, that sheep outfit disappears to reveal the wolf of male-privilege.

They’re still speaking over women. They’re still reaping the benefits of being charming. They’re playing the nice guy card so that they can cruise on through life without being called out.

Is it a start? Yes. Is it awesome?

Nope.

Ah charming nice guys. Ever met a cng? Oh yea, they’re real interesting - they listen well and they don’t patronize you and they ask questions. But underneath it all they are still socialized the same way as the assholes.

It’s easier to think about when we talk about race, I think. Beverly Tatum talks about the moving walkway - and how we continue to think about this walkway in a binary. Some people walk in the direction of racism (active racists, individual racists) and others just stand there. The people standing there think they are resisting racism, because “I’m not racist! I have a black friend!” or other ridiculous white guilt/defensive comments. But really, as Tatum articulates, there is a third category, the group of people who are walking against the direction of the moving walkway, thus actively and consistantly challenging and resisting institutional racism. The passive people twiddling their thumbs towards racism are still benefiting from it.

In my experience, with gender, it seems more complicated, or more difficult to understand this. Actually, I retract that statement. It isn’t that it seems more difficult. It’s just the people that I spend time around are mostly people or color or actively anti-racist white people who understand their privilege. So, race seems to be an “easier” thing to grasp than gender. Oh but patriarchy and male privilege work the same way, don’t they. nice guys passively standing around on the moving walkway, handing gatorade to the women who are running against it. When there are so many passive standers, who can blame women for thinking that’s all there is? And to be honest, I don’t think that women think that’s all there is. It’s just who can wait around for something that exists in such rarity? There are other factors, other experiences, other situations, that make those standers seem like runners. And that’s ok, in a way. That’s something I can’t really argue with.

But for those of us who are in a place where we can constantly and actively run against patriarchy and sexism, and be outspoken activists about it, I think it’s more than necessary to knock a few nice guys down in order for them to realize where things are headed.

The thing I hate the most is nice guys who appear nice because they say nothing at all. They appear to be progressive because they don’t argue for or against anything. Everything’s fine and good and mediocre. Nothing lights their flame of anger and outrage because those nice guys can afford to warm their hands against other people’s fires when and how they want to. Women cannot afford to just stop. There’s no on and off switch for the people who do not benefit from privilege. But at the heart of it, that’s what privilege is, isn’t it? Being able to stop running against the grain whenever you get tired. We all do it, with our respective privileges. All we can hope to do is remember what it means for us to be able to rest and then start running again, next to the people who can never stop. And then hit a point where we can go from nice to Nice. yup.

So, my last post on Oriental Barbie was wonderfully expanded upon by tekanji over at shrub.com.
For my feminist theory class, we were reading a passage from Grewal and Kaplan’s “Scattered Hegemonies” that problematized the binary of “global” and “local”. Using Barbie as an example, questions were posed as to why Barbie is sold in India but not Cabbage Patch dolls - why only North Indian clothes are put on Barbies, not South Indian. Why Barbie is dressed in “traditional” clothes, but Ken remains in Western clothing. Clearly, I have to read the full essay that answers these questions. And when I find time, I will.

What more is there to say? I’ve become slightly obsessed over the way Barbie is represented in India. Let’s make a bit of a comparison, shall we?

“This Collector Edition Barbie^® doll wears a traditional costume from far away India. Her modern, Indian sari is a rich, fuchsia color, accented with a beautiful shawl. Her accessories include delicate golden sandals, long drop earrings and a simple hand ring. From her thick, braided hair to her distinctive make-up, she’s a classic Indian beauty.” - Dolls of the World website

This particular Indian Barbie was released in 1996 in the U.S. Isn’t that interesting? Look at her. She looks pretty brown to me. Yes, she still is not representative of the majority of Indian women, but what Barbie is representative of any woman? She’s actually wearing a sari, and it isn’t showing off every part of her body. Granted, the little Taj Mahel in the back is just tacky, but look at it compared to the Diwali Barbie.

Wow. Look at that close up. She kind of resembles Aishwarya Rai.

I’m going to go to worse before I go to somewhat better. Sirindia.com posted this up - apparently there is a series of Barbies released in India called “Barbie in India”. The description on a couple of sites that sells the doll reads (are you ready?): “Barbie dressed in traditional Indian attire. Barbie comes to India & falls in love with the Indian way of dressing.” Try to picture what that means and then let’s take a look at the doll itself:

Wow Barbie - You sure loved more than the clothes! You even managed to find someone to dye your hair black!

I will say this. The relationship between local and global, and what is the global and local in each context is, hell, I’ll say it: fascinating. The Diwali Barbie sells the exotic to a Western society eager to be a part of the foreign mystery that is India and the Indian woman. It sells Barbie as the United States has understood it with an “ethnic twist”. And I’m not denying that there are Indian families who are so happy to have a Diwali Barbie to buy their young girl - disidentification is part of the process. Barbie as an entity is able to sell purely on this idea of disidentification. I owned a couple of Barbies when I was young - I cut their hair, I put them in toilet-paper saris. I couldn’t identify but I couldn’t not identify - I tailored the norm out of desperation in wanting to be normal. To be the socialized ideal.

I don’t know when there will be a time where Barbie’s representation of South Asia will stop being problematic, and that’s because Barbie is a problem, period.

photos from: www.zilltech.com/, lildolly.bloxode.com, and www.alltimegifts.com

Just writing a little note to you to say a few things. I know I’ve mentioned you in previous posts regarding the language used to describe you as well as how they seem to have made a mini-Ash version of you in the new Diwali Barbie. But in the last 48 hours your name is the reason why my blog has suddenly received so many visitors. According to my blog stat search results, it seems everyone is dying to know if you’re going to marry your celebrity friend Abhishek Bachchan, now that you’ve recently made a new bollywood film with him. I have to say, it’s a good thing you’re considered one of the most (if not the) most beautiful women in the world - I should be grateful, considering you’re Indian.

Let’s talk about that for a second though shall we? Umrao Jaan, eh? You went all out thinking you could remake such a classic film and I’m sure everyone was so happy you had the opportunity to replace Rekha. It’s funny because I just saw this movie for a class recently - the original version that is. Seems like a couple of men try to sell her off to a family before a brothel, but you know why they can’t? She’s too dark. They’re more interested in her friend, because she’s fairer.

That’s an interesting dynamic isn’t it? That part of her fate rests in the fact that whiteness is privileged in this context? It sure is a good thing it isn’t now! Oh wait - that’s right, I’m sorry. Your green eyes and white skin probably restricted that theme from coming up in the new movie huh. At least you are vocal about being ashamed that Indian women continue to lighten their skin - hell, you said it on Oprah!

I’m not blaming you, in all honesty. Lord knows you did a great job in Devdas - even your cameo in Bunty Aur Bubli made me hold my breath a little. I’m just resentful about the way you have been manipulated as an icon of foreign and exotic beauty - you are an(other) commodity for the West to exploit and ravish over. You don’t look very Indian, I’m just going to say it. When was the last time a South Indian or a dark-skinned North Indian woman was considered beautiful in Europe or the states? Maybe that woman from America’s next top model. I wonder if she lost the blue contacts (maybe she was influenced by you!), especially after voicing how proud she was to be a dark skinned Indian.

I wish we could sit down, have a nice cup of chai, and talk about where you really stand in all of this. I know your celebrity status and everyone’s obsession with the pale-exotic isn’t your fault - you’re just a good Indian girl on your way to international success. No one can blame you there.

Just remember who you represent, please?Maybe ask an interviewer or two to stop asking you how you feel about beauty and sensuality and the Kama Sutra and switch to..I dont’ know…politics. art. something. The challenges you had to face in becoming Miss World even.

Take care of yourself - I think of you everytime I hear someone talk about how sexy mysterious Indian women are and when I see that Indian barbie with green eyes.

-obw

Just a short post to end this long day.

I spent the entire evening working on a presentation for transnational feminist theory - it’s the introduction to Feminist Genealogies, Colonial Legacies, Democratic Futures, written by Alexander and Mohanty. I spent more than six hours working on the presentation and still feel that overwhelming since of inadequacy that often accompanies me in the midst of this privileged education. It was difficult to get past the irony of reading about how feminist theory in the United States continues to be Western and Euro centric and how feminist praxis and activism is a key part of feminism, but is often left out of feminist scholarship - for my feminist theory class (a class located, in case we didn’t know, in a small town in California).
Theory is so difficult for me to understand, and not simply because of the vocabulary - it’s difficult because it is so resistant to including emotion and experience as a valid source - a source that I would argue is strongly tied to the identity of many women of color. What does that mean for women of color theorists? Can there be any? Should there be any? The idea of writing theory makes me cringe a little, I’ll admit. The audience is limited and it’s difficult for me to see the possibility of bridging the gap between feminist theory and feminist application. I know it happens, but tracing the path seems impossible.
I guess my question is, what does feminist theory enable me to do as a feminist and activist(-in-the-making) and most importantly, as a woman of color? I wonder if Mohanty considers herself a theorist - I bet she considers herself a writer with the privilege of an education who understands the prioritizing of praxis over theory and knows that “feminist theory” still has a normalized connotation of white, Western, urban, straight, and upper middle class. It’s why we have to keep adding “transnational” to the beginning of the phrase in order for it to even begin to include women of color as theorists and writers instead of marginalized tokens.

On a completely unrelated note, I’m getting quite attached to peppermint tea.

Someone recently remarked that in his college days (circa 1990) at the one women’s studies class he had taken, what he wished most was not that the “man-haters” of the class would speak less or be a little less angry, but “would bathe…or at least shave”.

I took it as a kind of divine sign to finally sit down and write this post, which probably would have been written differently prior to the conversation above.

First a bit of context. I grew up in Texas, and went to a suburban middle school filled with very white Christian blondes who all sought to be the next pageant winner or at least find Mr. Right as soon as possible. The girls in my year took physical education, which involved changing into a uniform of thigh length shorts and a large shirt that popular girls would make tight by rolling a knot in the back. We had one talk before middle school P.E. began and it was to remind girls of a phrase that would rise from it’s dusty-pre-teen-grave and be reiterated in high school textbooks and infomercials: personal hygiene. I was educated about personal hygiene in three ways:

1. Young women wear bras. It is part of staying clean and healthy.

2. Young women wear deodorant.

3. Young women shave their legs and underarms. Everyday.

The everyday bit was never explicit but it became the habit expected of all hygenic girls in gym - All I can really say about it is that was the way it was.
I stopped shaving everyday in high school (I had moved to San Francisco at this time) and only began shaving “when necessary” (parties, events, skirts, dresses). And then when the stream of problematic boyfriends started, well then that became an additional necessary situation. Every one would praise me when I “finally got around to shaving”.
Now, shaving is something I do (and I say this with hesitancy and considerable fear of casting aside my feminist identity) “when I feel like it” (eg. it’s been a month and I need something to make me feel accomplished) or for family situations (my father associates shaving for women with shaving for men - it’s what you do. For personal hygiene.). Except my underarms. Those I do as soon as it becomes fairly apparent.

I struggle with this to some extent, yes. Yes, it’s a choice that stems from a sexist institution, yes a real choice might give way to some kind of women’s liberation that I have yet to experience. To that, there are only a few things I can add to complicate such a solution/logic.

First, I’m a South Asian American women’s studies major. That’s enough to send my extended family into cardiac arrest as it is. My parents stand by this diligently but it is a very real factor in my life that isn’t going to go away - and though I grit my teeth when I lie and say I am also an English major (that I chose women’s studies as a stand-out major for graduate schools), and take the constant stabs at being a “man-hater”, “one of those feminists”, etc., shaving is one thing they can’t say anything about. It stops being proof at Americanization or reckless youth or the result of the blasphemous liberal arts education. It’s normal - so it isn’t talked about.

And this isn’t just in the case of my family. Because family (aside from my parents who are pretty consistently supportive of all feminist related actions, or at least generally keep questions to themselves) is an institution that I can battle tactfully (I like to think of it as an art). This campus is quite another story. Besides being marginalized as a woman, a woman of color, a working class woman of color, a South Asian working class woman of color, a liberal SAWCWOC…I am a women’s studies/english joint major. And I’m loud. And I’m intimidating to many. I get asked about what I’m going to “do after I graduate” more here than I do at home. Where is the safe space? To some extent, it comes in the ability to blend in feminine personal hygiene. And I’m not proud to admit that, I’m not. But there it is. To think about it any further is privileging an issue over more important ones, such as my racial and ethic identity, my battle with culture, marriage, the elitist nature of transnational feminism, even the hair that grows out of my head. Until those larger conversations become more moderated in my head, I can begin to identify what a “my choice” really is. And I hope that changes one day. I really do.

Until next time.

This is a post that I’m actually working up to. I’ve been busy with midterms and whatnot so the opportunity to write a post that is going to do justice to this topic will simply have to wait until the weekend.

But I found this post today during my moments of procrastination and I have to say, it is both thought provoking and articulate. But it poses an interesting question between the idea of real choice and choice that stems from conformity.

Much to say, no time. Soon blogosphere, soon!

Thank you Dora, for this post - (courtesy of Shrub.com) I too, never wanted to be a white girl. I just wanted to be exactly like a white girl.
And yes. We need to keep talking about this…

I have more to say but it will have to wait.

Due to time constraints, this will be an entry that will most likely be revealed in parts. Now that this disclaimer has been put out there, I have no regrets about starting and ending wherever I please.
I shall start at the beginning.
I never cared about hair before - and by that I mean, not to the point of being able to empathize with other women of color about their hair. Hair to me has always been about expression, and style, and femininity, but it has never been, until recently, about my identity as a South Asian American woman.

Read the rest of this entry »

I have posted this just for you. I am in the middle of facilitating a workshop - race and racism - to my mentors. There is a great video playing, that is keeping their attention off of me updating my blog.
I am doing well. Although it is only the second day of training, so I’m bound to feel even more exhausted. The group is learning, and I realize that is my real goal for them. To what extent they learn will all depend on where they are already at when they begin.
My thought for the day is…
It makes me sad when women don’t consider themselves feminists even though they are. It makes me angry at White feminism, who have taken over the term and used their racial privilege to take over a marginalized label. So women of color don’t have a term, and must fight to reclaim feminism, and even then, only if they choose to pursue that fight.
Why is it so important for me to have that term? Feminism. I don’t know. Maybe because I want to belong with the feminist community. I want the norm of feminism to not be White upper middle class straight women’s feminism. I want to reconcile my role as Indian and American, and feminism seems to help me do that.
So many reasons…
This is what a feminist looks like.

“My response to racism is anger. I have lived with that anger, ignoring it, feeding upon it, learning to use it before it laid my visions to waste, for most of my life. Once I did it in silence, afraid of the weight. My fear of anger taught me nothing. You fear of that anger will teach you nothing, also.
Women responding to racism means women responding to anger; the anger of exclusion, of unquestioned privilege, of racial destortions, of silence, ill-use, stereotyping, defensiveness, misnaming, betrayal, and co-optation.” -Audre Lorde, The uses of Anger: Women Responding to Racism

“I used to believe that my feminist politics would make me strong. I thought strong thoughts. I held strong beliefs. I thought that would protect me. But all it did was make me aware of how badly I slipped when I lowered my voice and apologized for having a divergent opinion. For all my right thinking I did not fight back. But I have learned something. I’ve learned it takes practice to be a strong feminist….It was nice to grow up thinking this was an equal world. But it’s not….And it’s amazing what you can see when you are not hiding behind the warm, fuzzy glow of past feminist victories. It does not make me popular in the office. It does not even make me popular with women. –Ellen Neuborne “Imagine my surprise”

Has anyone ever seen that movie?
I’ve always been a really big fan of romantic comedies. That formula for traditional privileged romance has always been something I wanted to live vicariously through.

Then yesterday I saw that Sandra Bullock Hugh Grant movie, Two Weeks Notice. Lucy, played by Sandra Bullock is made to be a protesting/activist/good hearted lawyer who ends up wanting to quit working for H.G because he’s an ass, frankly. Fast forward to the end of the movie - they fall in love after he suggests that the reason she can’t stay in relationships is because she’s “too intimidating” and should “get in touch with her feminine side a bit more”. At the end, when she chases after him, she apologizes for being so stubborn and for having such strong opinions.
It was a good movie when I watched it. But 10 min. after that feeling sets in. You know the one — the one that says
wait…what just happened?
Along the same lines of being comfortable in one’s own skin, I want to add that I don’t know where to find being comfortable with my own voice. I feel like every romantic comedy that I revisit (and I do revisit them. I’m getting better at turning the feminist woman of color voice off)
is suggesting that with a bit of self silencing, I too can be chased down the city by the love of my life.
Do I know that it’s a movie? Yes. Do I understand that it’s not meant to be realistic for anybody? Yes.
But I also understand the implications of My Best Friend’s Wedding - one of my favorite movies - a movie where the strong, self sustaining, emotionally closed off woman, “loses” to a young, blonde, ‘follow my man’, amiable and loved by all wealthy female.

Where are my examples?

They are there, of course. Perhaps not in mainstream media - they are friends and family members and a few articles and a lot of feminist text.

I’m reading Listen Up - voices from the next feminist generation (I should be reading those books for my paper but whatever). All of the writings are great, though I obviously relate to some more than others. Or certain passages will stand out. But I mean, all writing is that, really. So few can really speak to me entirely.

Strong girls, remember that sensitive liberal boys are our secret enemies. They disguise themselves with the androgyny of…quiet thoughts, but underneath they are just as much BOY as the young republicans of your choice. Be careful, beautiful girl, be strong — just because he holds your hand and looks you in the eye when you talk to him doesn’t mean he respects your body or your mind. –”Bloodlove” Christina Doza

That was one of those quotes that I wanted to write off as angry and bitter but ended up tearing up over because I realized that I have fallen into this trap. I don’t cry about the fact that those things happened either. I cry because I’m so relieved that I’m not the only one.

What I want are words to define myself without the connotations of absence. –”You’re not the type” Laurel Gilbert

Yes!
You know the other day on the phone my mom was relaying to an old family friend from Texas (a haughty Indian family friend, just for the record) that I was a women’s studies and English major. The friend told my mom it was good I chose a “trendy major” - as if that’s why I chose it. Then she laughed and asked if I had become “a feminist”.
My mom said no. It was really interesting - I wasn’t mad about it at all because I usually run from the term like the plague. And I think it’s because I still associate the term with a specific kind of feminist. Upper middle class, straight, white, Western feminism.
Which reminds me that this is another word I must reclaim for myself. “You lack this if you are this. You can’t have this if this. You can’t get a man if you’re a feminist. You must hate them. You want to burn your bra. You are oppressed. You are exotic.” etc. etc. I want the word feminist without the connotation. I want activist and liberal and woman of color, and South Asian American without the connotations of absence.
Where is the formula for that?

There have been a lot of quotes I’ve been wanting to write down - people I know have been on a roll with saying brilliant things. But of course I can’t remember any of them. So there’s that.

Someone sent me the most beautiful message in the world, in regards to being able to relate to my posts. This made me feel so overwhelmed with hope. I love that woman so much. She is a fighter and is so inspiring. I hope she reads this and knows how I think of her everytime I write now.

Why do so many women crave to shed their skin? We’re constantly in need of validation about who we are, and as much as self affirmation becomes important, where else do we get it? It doesn’t seem to be the media and it doesn’t seem to be so many of the institutionalized programs and schools and systems and people around us. Where do we learn to affirm ourselves? Where do we learn to love ourselves without needing to be completed by someone else?

The skin I’ve wanted to shed is the remains of the skin that was built around me years ago. The one that depended on relationships and still felt awkward and inadequate around everybody. A part of that skin is never going to go away. Maybe it’s because I’m brown. Maybe it’s because I’m innately insecure. Who knows.

How does one shed that skin of insecurity to leave a new reclaimed one?

Wait! I remembered a quote. I’ll make it my title.

Anyone that knows me well knows how much it meant for me to read this in Sonja D. Curry-Johnson’s “Weaving an Identity Tapestry”:

“In college, conflicts did not lessen, but rather grew, both around me and within me. Here I had to decide what meant more to me, the attention and admiration of men, or my integrity as an independent woman. Unfortunately, there were times when my willingness to find and keep a boyfriend outweighed my desire to live my life honestly as my own person. During these times, I often placed the needs of the relationship over my own. It took a few years and a few broken relationships for me to reassess the importance of romantic love and to realize that there was no fantasy that was worth my denying any part of my identity. I decided not to become involved with a man unless I was sure he was the type of person that would not only accept my feminist ideals but also support my execution of them in my personal and professional lives. That type of man, in my mind, was a rare bird indeed. No sooner had I resigned myself to a life without romance, that I met such a bird and, in perhaps the least-debated decision of my life, married him.”