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.

I am plagued, dear readers, by three large and loaded words that have haunted me in college for nearly four years. Two terms that are plagued themselves by overuse and misunderstanding. And I’m going to try to get to my issue with both terms, though it could very well happen that I get stuck on one and have to finish up at another time.

I’ve been called oversensitive many times, in many different contexts. I remember having to do assignments in middle school where you have to describe yourself for some reason, and I often picked the term “really sensitive.” Hell, that’s what I was, really - sensitive about things, about what people say to me, about what people say to other people, about people’s actions. I still feel this way; of course now I don’t connote these traits with oversensitivity. I don’t believe sensitivity towards certain actions and hegemonies keeps me from developing the thick skin I need to survive. And I don’t believe there is anything “over” about my sensitivity.

There is a line drawn, it seems, that divides the normal or appropriate amount of concern from all other amounts. If normalcy dictates what is an appropriate amount of sensitivity (which varies based on race, class, gender, sexual orientation, age, etc.) to have about a given circumstance, then oversensitivity perhaps implies sensitivity in some sort of marginal space.

I think maybe using examples is a better way to explain myself. I’m sure I’ve mentioned this in the past (long ago, when this blog was in its first weeks) that there was an ex- who was filled with good intentions who told me that I was emotionally high maintenance and didn’t I think I was being a little bit too sensitive about certain things? This was in response to my bringing up the way our time was divided and whose schedules we worked around in the relationship (if you guessed “his,” you would be correct). At the time, my response to this criticism was to hold my tongue whenever I felt compelled to ask why aspects of the relationship were going the way they were.

I won’t suggest that my response now to claims of oversensitivity is to look those claims in the eye and spit on them. There are moments when the doubt creeps in, that perhaps I’ve searched too far through my progressive lens and have started to split hairs, have felt emotionally charged or impacted by something that doesn’t matter, that signifies nothing about larger institutional systems of oppression. The little voice says to me…maybe women need to buck up.

This is a part of self-loathing, though, isn’t it? It appears in it’s ghostly form and haunts us from the inside, telling us we are not as good as the beautiful people around us. It makes us doubt, makes us drained of our thick-skin-reserves so that we must take the time to exhale, exhale, exhale away the comments we have heard all our lives that rise to the surface again.

Sigh - those comments. They really are like a little plague that doesn’t seem to be an ailment until you are having a conversation with a male peer and you find yourself wondering why he looks slightly disengaged when you bring up the political and you think, “I talk too much. I’m talking too much. He’s looking at me like I’m oversensitive.”

And then you return to your room and you call those women of color who support you through your thick skin and thin and they help you ward off those ghosts for a little while longer.

I keep getting asked what I dressed up as this weekend for the big Halloween party on campus. I was a bit hesitant in my response, because at this point I still hadn’t decided whether or not I could handle the event. I was probably going to go, I had this great 90s dress I’ve been wanting to wear that I cannot pull off on a random Wednesday. Furthermore, I wanted to do some article research, having recently decided to be an opinion writer for our school paper. Let me tell you, this is entering a lion’s den to some extent. And it’s actually an entirely separate post that I’m still not ready to write that involves racism and sexism in the classroom and my choosing mainstream journalism in an attempt to keep from feeling like a quitter. A lot of students argue that Halloween is the one holiday that’s all about fun and is sort of this horrifying combination of debauchery and identity swapping, but the reality is, in the way that it is practiced in mainstream America, Halloween is never all about fun for me - it’s usually about trying to deal with the problematic costumes around me.

I’m to focus on two examples here because there is simply too many things to cover and these two examples really got me thinking this weekend.

First, I saw these students dressed as homeless people jingling bowls and hats to beg for money from the crowd. They had gone all out: dirt smudged faces and tattered clothing and unwashed hair and expressions that attempted to emote wear-and-tear. The argument for the costume I suppose is that part of Halloween should be about dressing up in identities that are completely different from our own. But I think the reality is that Halloween is the time where people can get away with dressing up in particular costumes, a way of being racist and classist and homophobic without being called out on it because they aren’t actually saying anything or expressing opinions, they’re “just dressing up”. It’s “just a costume”. I’m going to make a few assumptions here, but I think the students who chose “homeless people” as their costume are probably in the exact opposite situation as homeless people on campus: they are provided housing. They are getting an over $100,000 education. They aren’t starving, they aren’t living in the streets, they have access to showers and probably have enough money to purchase new clothes and live a comfortable life. The privilege of being able to dress up otherwise is offensive and classist, and reflects a kind of ignorance that even now I’m having trouble processing.

The second costume I want to talk about is one that I seem to have seen a lot on websites and over the weekend: the Pocahontas/ stereotypical Native American costume. With regards to the argument “Pochontas is from Disney and I was dressing up as a Disney character” my response is that Disney has racially problematic representations of individuals and helps to perpetuate many stereotypes about particular groups of people. So hiding behind Disney isn’t really going to help justify your costume. So often, the majority of individuals around me, myself included, ignore and exclude the history of indoctrination, imprisonment, destruction, and annihilation of Native Americans in California and the United States. When students dress up as Native Americans they are suggesting that the history of violence and oppression against Native Americans is something that can be forgotten, that their history and identities can be reduced to a culturally appropriative costume that can be donned by anyone on Halloween, that racist representations of Native Americans is appropriate.

My point here is that the “geishas” and “gangsters” and “belly dancers” and “maids”, the people who have the racial privilege to be able to dress up as “terrorists”, and “ethnic people” need to think about the racial and class privileges that allow them to do this….

Many people seem to choose costumes that are outside of normalcy - there is this combination of stereotyping and further marginalizing and often culturally appropriating communities. This is about exercising one’s privilege by dressing up as the Other - so when I see a white woman dressing up in the everyday clothes of someone from India, for example, there is something that allows that individual to feel comfortable in exploiting and appropriating another culture and identity, while also disregarding the history of that community, for a day that is apparently “all about fun”.

Yuck.

I’m writing about Halloween in conjunction with The Day of Red not only because they are happening on the same day but because there’s something to be said about costumes and the violence that these costumes are ignoring and making invisible. We need to think about the violence that occurs everyday against women of color and why there are so many women that think it’s ok to dress up in ethnic costumes, that do not encompass the history of violence and silence that affects the actual communities of women who are being stereotyped and caricatured.

We need to think about cultural appropriation of cultures and the kind of violence that appears in that process and in those cultures and what it means to simply walk around with particular aspects of the Other culture but without that trauma and without that violence (colonial and imperial and physical and emotional and patriarchal) that is deeply embedded in those communities.

We need to think about why there are people who can dress up today as Native AMericans, Geishas, Mulan, Princess Jasmine, Arabs, South Asian People, Belly Dancers; who can dress up today as beaten and murdered and bruised and bloody women from stories and myths, while there are Other women of color who are dead and who are stripped of their agency and who are raped and traumatized and beaten and silenced everyday.

It’s 2007 and I’m an adult that is not only exploring the possibilities of public policy, but is also continuing to ask myself what it means to be a progressive and socially-conscious individual; so it’s no surprise that I’ve spent the summer slowly trying to peek my head into the world of politics. By this I mean, keeping up with debates, reading publications such as Mother Jones, and wikipedia-ing as much as I can about free trade and straw polls, school vouchers and civil unions. Educating myself about politics, as it turns out, is tricky. I tried watching the news on television and couldn’t seem to do it - my brain spends so much time teasing out the imperialist and Euro-centric agenda of broadcasts that I can’t seem to concentrate on names and events. I started listening to podcasts - that was helpful, because now I have access to BBC broadcasts and NPR broadcasts whenever I want, for free. And I’m still developing a bookmarked folder of politics publications.

When Bush was elected in 2004 for a second term, I was still an underclassman in college. I teared up and hibernated for the weekend at the thought of the POTUS remaining the same, and therefore, U.S. foreign policy and agendas staying the same. Now as the next election rolls around, I find myself wanting to really look at the media coverage and debates surrounding the candidates - probably because there have only been two families in office for the majority of my life. That scares me.

Over the summer, I’ve been working as a research assistant and have had the chance to read a substantial amount of feminist theory and literary theory related to American Studies. This is a field I was never particularly interested in - but after 10 weeks of reading hundreds of essays and writing hundreds of abstracts, I’ve realized more than a few interesting things.

The thing I want to share here is this: While I have tried to acknowledge my citizenship privilege in my day to day life (these privileges include being able to travel abroad without complications, applying for scholarships and financial aid, etc.), I still have an us-vs.-them mentality when it comes to the decisions made by Congress, the House of Representatives and Mr. POTUS himself. In college, there are always general comments made about the government: “Look what they’re doing, they’ve started this war, they’ve continued the war, they’re trying to ’save’ oppressed people abroad, they’re not helping public education” and on and on. When do I begin to really own up to the reality that as a citizen, and as someone born and raised in the United States, I’m carrying the burden of my country’s actions and decisions on my shoulders as well.

When we talk about institutional vs. individual racism, we learn to rethink the mentality of “Oh, I’m not racist. Other people are racist” - we learn instead, to think about whiteness and white privilege and about what it means to be benefiting from an institution that helps certain people over others.

There is a parallel here and it is the fact that it’s easy to get caught up in claiming that as a progressive liberal, as a Democrat, as someone who didn’t vote for the individuals who are appointed to govern the nation, that there is no blood on our hands. It’s easy to just feel sorry or guilty about it and then move on - because we can move on, because we can put everything on conservatives or the GOP (My reference to political parties should not suggest that our beliefs also fall along a similar binary - I merely mentioned the Dem. Party and GOP because they are labels that often get used in the us-vs.-them debate).

I guess what I’m saying is that for those of us who are not already, for those of us who are U.S. citizens and have citizenship privilege, we are responsible and all need to continue engaging ourselves in issues of national and local and foreign policy; we need to read feminist and antiracist materials that look critically at nationalism and imperialism and colonialism and globalization and the War on Terror; we need to get past feeling sorry and guilty and, as Audre Lorde urges so well, do our work.

I might try to rewrite this post soon - these are thoughts that have been swimming around me since 2001 and it’s the first time I’ve tried to ‘pen’ them down.

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 

The academic year has ended so I am on my way to consistent blog writing once more. Last summer, my blog was a staple to talk about everyday things - it has transformed into a space for me to write about how larger political issues and politics of particular issues, have come to affect my everyday life. Finally, a direction. Finally, this little blog has a sort of theme - I no longer feel guilty for writing about myself and my life as much as I want. If people do not want to hear about these things, there are many other bloggers in the internet sea.

I want to write about two things.

I watched my best friend in the whole world and two other very good friends graduate last weekend. Each is going off to do wonderful things and I hope to keep in touch with all three.

I once got very offended by a comment that a (now) very good male friend of mine made. He said, “You’re really bad at dealing with change”. There it was, out on the table. And part of the reason I resisted this comment so much is because it’s true. I find myself dragging my feet when it comes to closing a part of my life and approaching a new phase. This is why a few weeks before graduations, the end of academic years, birthdays, inevitable break ups, etc., my stomach gets knotted and my heart curls up into the fetal position.

This year however, there was a bit of growth. Last year my goodbyes were long and hard to do and made me cry and blubber on my way out the door. This year, despite the difficulty in saying goodbye, they were short and civil. Had someone filmed the goodbyes, they might have thought I was cold and didn’t particularly care about these people.

Had the camera continued on into the privacy of my room, it would have recorded me sobbing loudly (I cry quite loudly - none of this delicate tears streaming down the face. All out, hyperventilating, can’t-speak crying. And I embrace it). Then I blow my nose, wipe my face, and walk out the door to whatever meeting or dinner or airport I need to be at.

What I’m getting at in this poorly written, unimportant post (I’m a bit rusty on the blog writing, so hopefully people will cut me some slack) is that heartbreak is exactly that. It is our heart breaking, silently within us until it can no longer contain itself and it explodes into tears and shakes and fear and wailing in our rooms. It can make us ill and it can even kill us. It can make us forget to eat and when we do, we cannot taste.

But what I’ve come to realize is that heartbreak is more than break-ups and goodbyes. It is the everyday, the nostalgia for our homes and our families and our friends. It is the pressure put upon our steadily pounding hearts by white supremacy and patriarchy and heterosexism. It is the comments we hear on the streets and the insecurities we feel in our skin that can break our hearts.

All of the women of color in my life have broken hearts. They cannot be mended because they were shattered the very moment they were assigned the labels that weigh down on them that we desperately pray will not matter.

This said, let me also now say that these same women have thick skin. Often I think we want to hide from this thick-skinned description. I know it makes me think I am unfeeling and too cold-hearted. I think the reality is, we need thick skin to survive. Thick skin is what helps us to put food on the table and to tape up our broken hearts. It helps us to feel safe in a world where we are constantly threatened by various degrees of violence.

I can only hope that every person whose heart is broken by the day-to-day can find spaces where they might temporarily strip away their thick skin.

I’m back. I’m writing. I’m trying.

I’ve been doing well for the most part - busy but well. Doing work, but doing good work. Attempting to start many posts only to have them as saved drafts that linger on the top of my wordpress write-post page.

Then yesterday I was thrown off of my steady course. I had applied, about a month ago, for grant money to do research for my thesis - it was a considerable sum of money that I would get in exchange for doing research on food as a metaphor for diaspora identity, gender, etc. in contemporary South Asian literature. This is a topic I’m interested in, that I’m passionate about, and that I think is unique in comparison to many of the English proposals that are put in.

My proposal was rejected. I received a very diplomatic response that told me my proposal was interesting but not refined enough, that there were many applications received, and that I should take an independent study course over the summer.

Dear grant committee

While I understand that there may be many reasons why you did not select me as a recipient of grant money, please do not suggest that I take an independent study course over the summer. Your grant gave me money to do the research I wanted to do because I cannot afford to do it over the summer without being paid. You have suggested I take and i.s. course, which is something I would have to pay for. Instead of paying me to do this work, you want me to pay to do it. Sorry that I am not part of the wealthy elite that roam the hallowed halls of this institution - I would say that you couldn’t be expected to take class into consideration, but I’m going to refrain from making such claims, because the institution has one of the largest endowments in the country.

Furthermore, I noticed that a lot of the grants go to science majors. This is perfectly understandable, but also reminds me that you don’t think humanities work can be considered research. Though I did hear an example of a white man who received a grant for studying African-American business in New England. Does it seem less legitimate to give money to a south asian woman wanting to research South Asian postcolonial literature? This is the second year in a row you have rejected my proposal, so I’m inclined to be a little irrational. Now you put me in the position to ask myself where I can find a job this summer that pays me the money you pay to do work that will help me get into graduate school.

To top it all off, you will probably be sending me another rejection letter on Monday regarding another research proposal - perhaps next year when you come across students like me, you can put both rejections in one email so they can get past their insecurities and frustrations about being dependent on money sooner.

Thank you for your time,

-obw.

Now I am desperately looking for some sort of paid internship - which is difficult, and far more difficult than it should be considering the college is supposed to have amazing career resources. Turns out resources means business and finance. Turns out the college does not provide a stipend for unpaid nonprofit summer internships.

Of course, the thing that upsets me the most - along with the money issue - is that this experience makes me doubt the work that I’m doing. I keep asking myself - is postcolonial studies and doing work in south asian literature and in food and in colonial hospitality in victorian literature really valid? Maybe this isn’t work I should be doing. Maybe there are just people who are better thinkers, better writers, who are doing this work and I should stick to something else. I’m pretty confident that that isn’t true, but I hate doubting myself.

Rejection is a difficult thing - and the experience is helping me gain the thick skin I know I need if I want to be in graduate school and/or in academia in the future - but it feels….awful.

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.

Over thanksgiving, I had the opportunity to watch way too much television. I’m in the middle of an episode when I caught a commercial for Crayola - one of their “use your imagination” advertisements that is supposed to be very sentimental and endearing, possibly nostalgic.Well this commercial was a little bit more than all of that - let me try to describe it as best as I can. I wasn’t able to find a copy of the commercial online, but maybe someone will and can add the link - because it really should be seen.

Young white girl is drawing - she draws a lion. The lion jumps off the page and the girl is transported into a jungle - trees, elephants, and other animals (all animated to look like they are made of cutout paper or markers, etc.). The ywg is riding an elephant and is now wearing a purple and pink outfit that can only be described as a cross between Princess Jasmine’s clothes and a problematic halloween costume. (Strike one)

She turns around to wave a young white boy - who is also drawing. He’s dressed in (deep breath) and outfit that strongly resembles a British colonial officer’s clothes.

Actually he looks just like those little miniatures above - sans gun/facial hair. (Strike two)

And just when you believe that it’s over - the boy removes what he’s been drawing off the paper - turns out it’s a bridge - and places it in the jungle, over a waterfall. I’m pretty sure there are little stick figures walking across after he puts it up. (Oh yes. Definitely strike three.)

I just don’t understand the thought process involved when this commercial was being produced. Someone thought “I want to encourage children to use their imagination - so I’ll put them in a jungle dressed as colonizers and appropriaters and have the women explore culture while the men build bridges and show the natives how it’s done”?

They thought “in our post 9-11 world, the historical nostalgia we want to bring up and echo is one of colonization, of remembering that our place is to help the less fortunate. the earlier we begin to imagine this, the better”?

Oh wait. They didn’t think.

I understand, it’s one advertisement. But - it’s always one advertisement, one statement, one instance - until these instances and moments become the instituional norm, the foundation that our foreign (and domestic) policy begins to echo, and continues to perpetuate.

I wish I could be more articulate about how frustrated I was about the depiction of the White West exploiting the Other. But I can’t right now. Rest assured, I will be writing about this again.

Of all the races in the United States, white people have the hardest time understanding racial oppression. This is a fact. Much like the men (including myself) in the United States who just cannot understand what it feels like to be a woman who is judged by her bra and waist measurements, white Americans cannot put themselves in the position of racial other-ness on a daily basis. Unless of course they go abroad or to New York, Chicago, DC, Altanta, Detroit, Philly, LA, Houston, or anywhere else with more black people than say, Altoona, PA. This is not to say that white people cannot understand racial opporession. It’s just that, well, most of them don’t. - Philip Arthur Moore; read the entire thing here.

via Racialicious - one of my new favorite blogs!

This is a pretty awesome site. Rachel’s Tavern lists racist incidents that have been happening on college campuses in the last couple of months. I have to say I nearly fell off my chair in reading the story about college republicans at BU who “feel the need to have a ‘Caucasian scholarship’”.

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

Yup. We all know that if I’ve started my day thinking I have time to post on a topic entitled “Diwali Barbie”, it’s not going to be good.
Sk sent me this, and I can’t decide whether the actual doll or the blurb alongside it is more disgusting.
I think, being a full believer that it isn’t what you say (or in this case, sell) but how you do it, the text is what put my heart into figurative cardiac arrest.

Let’s take a closer look, shall we?

The most important and magical festival celebrated in India is Diwali. Homes are decorated with marigolds and mango leaves, thousands of oil diyas or lamps are lit as auspicious symbols of good luck, and everyone enjoys sweets to the sound of firecrackers and revelers. Diwali Barbie doll wears a traditional teal sari with golden detailing, a lovely pink shawl wrap, and exotic jewelry. The final detail is a bindi on the forehead - a jewel or a mark worn by Hindu women to indicate that they are married. Doll cannot stand alone.

I know, I know. “But this is to diversify for all the brown children who need a Barbie to look up to!”. Actually, if we wanted little Indian children running around and worshipping a disproportionatly tall woman whose skin is unnaturally white and lives up to the standards of exotic in the West, we would point them all to Aishwarya Rai. At least she does something. Where is the President of the US Indian Barbie? Where the hell is Prime Minister Barbie?
I think the thing that kills me is how white looking she is. Her skin is white and Lord knows she’s letting her buyers feel like they can never live up to true Indian beauty standards.

What’s most ironic to me is the line “Doll cannot stand alone”. Thank you Barbie for reminding us that at the end of the day, no woman should really be able to stand alone. Especially not the exotic ones.

Happy Wednesday.

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.

Actually the most frustrating thing ever - Orientalism meets globalization - the only comfort to me is that at least they are women of color. I saw this and laughed to save from crying or breaking something.

Oh and just by the way, the thing that angers me about this isn’t even the attempt-at-fusion dance itself. It is the fact that a company like Nike is benefitting from it - it is the colonizer using the other, the colonized, to gain economic strength and respectability…

From knowmore.org - it’s about American Apparel and whether they are really better than other clothing companies. The CEO sounds…there are no words. I told myself that the site is probably not a legitimate site…but…really? It’s just..scary to think that there are no really good corporations..

This is about language people! Language!

Aishwarya Rai is one of those women that I give a lot of credit to for paving some way for Indian women to be maintstreamed somehow but Lord Knows she could easily pass for exotic white and isn’t really helping by remaining passive about the language used about her. Then again, my victim-to-system blame lens reminds me that this is really about the public being eager to pounce upon any chance to objectify the other…

Then watch “real Brawny men“. I know what you’re thinking - how could she stoop to watching this. Well, after you’ve seen the commercial 10 million times you do become a bit curious. And I have to say…it’s….well…its not riveting but definitely interesting. And pretty diverse I might add.
Oh yea and the Brawny guy is HYSTERICAL. Apparently he’s supposed to be like, the ideal man or whatever - “good looking sensitive” straight white man who lives in the woods and is one hatchet away from being out of a grocery store romance novel.