Lolly on Dissent, Privilege, and Dialogue

A few weeks ago, I had dinner with some friends of mine. They're married and a little older than I am, but we've known each other for around 5 years or so. Without going into too much detail, in order to respect the anonymity of said persons, let it be known that they were at one point in positions of authority over me. Regardless, in case you haven't been paying attention to my beliefs as evidenced in my writings here, I hold a strong interest in radical politics. Certainly, I can talk all I want, but actions > words, so I'm still working on the activism part. Anyways, these friends of mine hold approximately the complete opposite of my system of beliefs, or so it seems at first entry into conversation.

A year ago, I debated with the male friend the merits of a women's studies degree. This time around, somehow President Obama and the BP oil spill came up. Eventually, the conversation turned to capitalism, profit, corruption, and general mistrust in government. Fascinatingly, we kept finding ourselves agreeing on several points, but for entirely different reasons. Before continuing, let me make clear that I still am not extremely well-read on current affairs, despite the fact that I am trying to keep better track of the latest in feminist, race-related, and social justice related events. An example of the apparent agreement between my friend and me was that the government eats up a lot of money which doesn't get put to effective use in solving society-wide problems. Yet my friend's viewpoint was to trace this problem back to our current president as an individual. The source of this opinion was not explicit or clear: a possible sign of white fear/mistrust in Obama as a man of mixed African ancestry, or mistrust in the Democratic party for its alleged endorsement of abortion, women's rights, GLBTQ rights, and other social justice causes. However, I don't see much of a drastic difference in treatment of social justice issues by either the Democratic or Republican party. That last sentence stems from my critical view of the two-party political system in the United States, but to delve into that is another long story...

In any case, my humble and not-fully-informed opinion is that the government's money problems (though let me repeat, I am far from well-informed on the minute details of federal spending) are hardly incidental but rather symptoms of the failure of capitalism, and of dependency on exploitative interpersonal relationships.

I. Dissent

At my small, predominantly white liberal arts college, I have found a political atmosphere often stiflingly monotonous, created by shallow allegiance to 'liberal' convictions by the student body as a whole. A new feminist friend of mine at the University of Minnesota has called the accompanying form of activism 'armchair activism', for such a title conveys the convenience and passivity with which students can engage in issues of social justice. My description here is not meant to be condescending nor condemnatory, but rather reflective, since I have been and often continue to be a part of these problems. Thus, I must also examine my own complicity in this form of shallow liberal politics -- to be a white student with economic privilege means I do not live these issues on an immediate level every day.

Despite the opposing paths from which my friend and I arrived at some similar conclusions throughout our discussion, the main focus of my post here is to examine the purpose and helpful nature of dialogue with other whites who hold opinions not matching our own variant of liberal. I (and others) have frequently noticed students -- including myself, I must admit -- dismissing less liberal perspectives as illogical, illegitimate, and unworthy of debate, except to ridicule the opponent's backwardness.* This lack of dissent is not only boring, it is also dangerous and unnatural. Of course, I am not advocating a massive (and frightening) invasion of foaming-at-the-mouth racist, sexist, classist, ablist homophobes. What I am arguing is that without a willingness for some of us (to be described below, anti-racist white allies) to at least hear out some differing opinions, we lose our ability to sharply defend and improve our own passion in social justice. In fact, we perpetuate the blind condemnation of which the Left often accuses the Right when we condescendingly dismiss others' thoughts and opinions, which are deeply tied to personal experience and circumstance. Nonetheless, I am not so naive as to think that my perspective is unaffected by my own social position. On the contrary, the two are inseparable.

II. Privilege

My tolerance of specific comments and suggestions made by my friend is very deeply and directly related to my own whiteness, just as his comfort and ability to utter same aforesaid remarks is inextricable from his whiteness. Privilege went almost exclusively unexamined on my friend's side during the talk; I do not write that in a self-righteous manner. Rather, I highlight this blindness in a manner reflective of my own growing awareness and observation of the aggressive omnipresence of whiteness as a colonizing force. I do not argue that people of color must continue to tolerate remarks and actions which are hurtful and which deny the validity of their experiences. As a white person with significant class and other privileges, it is simply a fact that I do not deal daily with many of the hardships and oppressive matters addressed in the conversation with my friend. I therefore reflect upon my position as an ally in discussions, so as not to distance myself from the seriousness of the matter, but also so as to maintain patience and compassion with white companions while constantly contemplating the real urgency of social justice.

III. Dialogue

What I have grown to find effective in discussions with other white folks of more conservative convictions -- or even those who consider themselves liberal but are uninformed about social inequalities -- is to let the other person speak without interruption. People become defensive if they feel attacked or accused; hence, maintenance of a respectful demeanor is key. However, respect frequently veers too far toward politeness and leads to neglect of responsible critical awareness and analysis. For these reasons it is necessary to both lend compassion to validate a person's experiences, thereby making them more likely to listen to you in your turn, while also being vigilant for ways to lovingly point out the deep-reaching, harmful influence of whiteness on all our everyday lives. Additionally, sharing stories of one's own gradual intellectual transformation helps the companion to see that alliance to social justice is a constant process of unlearning and reflecting, not something with which we are born. Unlearning through reflection is a key part of becoming a strong ally.

Admittedly, subsequent to the conversation with my friend, I felt that there had been no obvious progress or change in our convictions. I wondered what the purpose of such a conversation is or can be. Just as my friend commented that "I'll probably never change your mind", so also will I probably never fully remove him from his conservative opinions. I further contemplated what this discussion taught me about myself, others, and the way in which we relate to each other. My friend and I showed each other that we can hold a political discussion cordially, and be fruitful in that discussion. In the end I found it fruitful because we had established respect for one another as people with experiences, and through that respect, we were more willing to actively listen.

IV. Visions for the Future

Overall, I am concerned that at places like my liberal arts college, with a lack of diversity of thought, we become comfortably less attentive in our positions of alleged liberality or even true social radicalism. I am led to consider if some compromise in conversation is necessary for real change. (I will clarify what I mean by that shortly.) Does this make me less of an ally to historically oppressed groups? I still honestly believe in striving toward utopian ideals of social equality (I'm struggling with the word 'equality' for a variety of reasons), and also believe in the eradication of all massively oppressive systems. I am again led to consider the position which a white anti-racist can claim as an ally to historically underrepresented groups, especially people of color. Yet I also consider how to simultaneously use white privilege to undermine systems of oppression -- through allying oneself with the seed of hope for change in those of our white companions who have not yet begun to realize the terrible, distorted, and violent nature of our society. Namely, this violence stems from the systems of exploitation through which we have used power to create imbalance between ourselves and others.

Nevertheless, without any utopian hope in the possibility for change in other whites' attitudes, what can be our hopes for the creation of an anti-racist society? I do not say this to imply that whites must be 'saviors' of people of color. That would be a thoroughly condescending, egocentric, and racist position to occupy. On the contrary, what I mean to reflect upon is the fact that whites currently control a disproportionate amount of institutions and wealth in not only the USA but also the world. Therefore, transformation of attitudes among whites must happen. It is our responsibility as white anti-racist allies to keep the door open to dialogue with other whites, while still keeping strict vigilance for social justice.

Do you have any critiques or comments? I'm sure I could learn from any reflections you have, so please share, if you feel comfortable. All these thoughts expressed above are recycled from discussions with many activists and friends in the struggle for anti-racism and a world without oppression. Hence I claim no credit for originality; it is a collective and perpetually ongoing intellectual and emotional process.

*See my first blogpost, "Bad Dates, Classism, and Talking about Oppression", 21 March 2010.

Summer Reading, Having Me a Blast

I have 25 books from the library (yay for free books!) and almost 10 more that I own, all of which I want to read but probably won't finish entirely cover-to-cover. I've read parts of most of them, but during the summer I find it difficult to focus on a single book when it's not required. Too much to learn and ponder (in a social justice framework, not in a colonizing manner)!

Recommendations, reviews, or critiques? Let me know; it's always good to expand my mind through shared knowledge.

• This Bridge Called My Back: Writings from Radical Women of Color, Gloria Anzaldúa and Cherríe Moraga
• Moral Disorder, Margaret Atwood
• James Baldwin: Collected Essays, James Baldwin
• Our Bodies, Ourselves, Boston Women's Health Book Collective
• Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee, Dee Brown
• Rubyfruit Jungle, Rita Mae Brown
• Stonewall: the Riots That Sparked the Gay Revolution, David Carter
• Femme: Feminists, Lesbians, and Bad Girls, ed. Laura Harris and Elizabeth Crocker
• Colonize This! Young Women of Color on Today's Feminism, ed. Daisy Hernández and Bushra Rehman
• Built to Win: the Female Athlete as Cultural Icon, Leslie Heywood and Shari L. Dworkin
• Lady Sings the Blues, Billie Holiday with William Dufty
• the Vintage Book of International Lesbian Fiction, ed. Naomi Holoch and Joan Nestle
• Ain't I a Woman: Black Women and Feminism, bell hooks
• Feminist Theory: from Margin to Center, bell hooks
• Zora Neale Hurston: Folklore, Memoirs, and Other Writings, Zora Neale Hurston
• Bitchfest: 10 Years of Cultural Criticism, ed. Lisa Jarvis and Andi Zeisler
• Feminist Theory and Christian Theology: Cartographies of Grace, Serene Jones [Note: I don't currently self-identify as a Christian, but rather am intrigued at proposed intersections between these two fields of thought.]
  
• the Winona LaDuke Reader: a Collection of Essential Writings, Winona LaDuke
• Lies My Teacher Told Me: Everything Your American History Textbook Got Wrong, James Loewen
• Sister Outsider, Audre Lorde
• Sexual Politics, Kate Millett
• Feminism without Borders, Chandra Talpede Mohanty
• Sisterhood Is Powerful, ed. Robin Morgan
• Feminist Frontiers, ed. Laurel Richardson, Verta Taylor, and Nancy Whittier
• the Wages of Whiteness: Race and the Making of the American Working Class, David Roediger
• the Truth That Never Hurts: Writings on Race, Gender, and Freedom, Barbara Smith
• Sleeping Beauty, Indeed, ed. JoSelle Vanderhooft
• Complete Fairy Tales of Oscar Wilde, Oscar Wilde
• Don't Bet on the Prince: Contemporary Feminist Fairy Tales in North America and England, ed. Jack Zipes

Also on my list to read:

• Gender Trouble, Judith Butler
• the Dialectic of Sex, Shulamith Firestone
• Female Masculinity, J. Halberstam
• Lover, Bertha Harris
• Brave New World, Aldoux Huxley
• the Female Man, Joanna Russ
• a People's History of the United States, Howard Zinn

Finally, I've also read:

• the Well of Loneliness, Radclyffe Hall
  
• White like Me: Reflections on Race from a Privileged Son, Tim Wise

A Love Letter in a Time of Departure...and Revolution

Yesterday, many great people officially ended their academic careers at my college. For the past 9 months, I gladly spent time with good friends, members of the class of 2010. These students and colleagues of mine inspire me to strive for change while they continue to thrust themselves into struggles for social justice. These extraordinary people have lovingly and patiently aided in fostering the personal and intellectual growth of many other students, including myself. I have begun to learn how to examine and question my own privileges in order to dismantle the systems which perpetuate the existence of such privileges. I truly cannot thank the class of 2010 enough for being caring friends, exceptional mentors, and humbly passionate leaders on the local, national, and global stage in a challenging era.

People like these do not come around often. However, they leave their profound legacy within all of those whom they have loved, to whom they have given their time and affection. Though the college will soon unabashedly pester these friends of mine for their money, the real gifts of the class of 2010 are the positive effects of their dedicated actions and words.

It was delightful to meet the families of the graduating students, to see whence their virtuosity has originated and subsequently bloomed. I myself am in transition to a new university (although for the time being I happily maintain my library card, college e-mail account, and other trivial but memorable services). Though I will be in the same city, I am glad to be exiting my college at such a high peak of the celebration of the aforementioned wonderful people.

Sia expresses my sentiments well in the song "You Have Been Loved".



Love,
Lolly.

An Angry Punk Named Kate Nash?

A few words to describe the new Kate Nash: angry, emo, punk, screechy, and a bit disappointing. When I saw her come onstage I was overjoyed and immediately noticed her darker garb, thinking, "Ooh, look who's the latest hottie." In general I was quite thrilled to see Kate with a good friend; we danced gladly as Ms. Nash performed barely 1 hour's worth of songs, occasionally passionately.

Her ankle was injured, so she couldn't have been in the best mood, but she maintained a very "eff-you" attitude throughout the concert. She only sang maybe 1 or 2 of her older songs from the album "Made of Bricks", including the fabulous "Foundations". I'm pretty sure that album was the reason most of us were there to see Kate. However, she was quite high-maintenance, insisting that the entire crowd be silent while she sang the mellow, pouty "I Hate Seagulls", from her new album "My Best Friend Is You". I didn't really have that much of a problem with that insistence, except that she was very pouty for the duration of the time she was onstage.

My friend and I simultaneously realized after several songs, "She hates a lot of things." Overall at this concert Kate was simply very negative, always complaining, never really very empowering. Fairly unfortunate. It seemed in a way she was trying to be sort of feminist, through a strange spoken word piece called "Mansion Song" in which she says "I wanna be fucked and then rolled over because I'm an independent woman of the 21st century." This shows an understanding of feminism as equated primarily with 'sexual liberation' i.e. "I'm empowered because I go and sleep around a lot. I emphasize my physical self to an extreme degree. I get pushed around sexually sometimes, but it's my choice, and therefore I'm free." You are still caught in that social system, Kate! You can never fully escape and have complete independence of these forces! So Kate's is not my version of feminism, but I would love to have a conversation with her about the subject.

Side note: The opening band "Supercute" = exceptionally annoying, and not unique. I thought 8th grade was over, please. Apparently not. My friend and I were irked that they did a synchronized, uncreative dance behind Kate while she sang an upbeat song. Said we, "Get off the stage because you have boring and sheep-like dance moves." My friend and I longed to be up there dancing, not only because we enjoy creativity but also because Kate said it pleased her when she saw people dancing in the audience. There were only a few of us.

Ironically, it was an all ages show, so there were a lot of middle-aged mothers and their preteen/early teen daughters. I can't imagine they had a very good time, but in a very German schadenfreude way I found that slightly funny. Nonetheless I was of course discontent overall, but it did only cost $5. Still...Kate Nash, really? I don't mean to sound bitter but these are my honest ponderings.

The only really nice thing Kate said to the crowd was "I like it when they have the lights on you. You can see how beautiful you are."

The One and Only Magical Sia

Just got to see this fantastically quirky woman in concert this past weekend. Absolutely and totally in love, I am...she covered all the microphones and sound system in adorable crocheted blankets, while the stage was covered in rainbow colors and other arts-and-craftsy materials.

At the end of the concert, Sia returned for an encore wearing bright pink wings which spun and blew soapy bubbles at the audience. I was only 10 feet away from her and she gave many opportunities for heckling (in a sweet way). During the bubble period, I yelled "Playground!" as a request for said song. "Oh, you're nice. But no, sorry," she smiled in her charming Australian accent.

**Sigh!!** Enjoy this crazy colorful video from a song on her new album, to be released within the month.

"I Don't Need a Man"...PCD?

I really don't need a man. ;) Thus when the Pussycat Dolls' "I Don't Need a Man" came up on my iTunes shuffle (currently playing), my reaction was "Yesss! Just what I'm in the mood for! Female (queer?) empowerment, woot woot!" Granted, I did once own the album PCD; I have seen their music videos and listened to their other songs and very much understand that they aren't exactly the most feminist group. Therefore, my faith in them was far too idealistic. Nonetheless, I thought, "Ooh, maybe there's a video for this song! Surely it'll be slightly more female-friendly than they usually are."



I couldn't be more disappointed. Actions speak more loudly than words, even if it is a damn catchy song. The video in fact reasserts the popularly asserted need for a male gaze, as the women seductively sneak sexy glances at the camera. While trying really hard to turn you on, they take a shower, blow dry their hair, and go to the hair salon (why do your hair twice in one day?!). Not only that, but the viewers also see their naked silhouettes as they change clothes, noticeably bras. In case you thought it was over, they proceed to smilingly dance around, skimpily clad like strippers. Ever see RENT? The resemblance couldn't be more obvious.



Having almost completed a course on the sociology of sexuality, I am not advocating the left-feminist censorship argument. For those of you who aren't familiar with that, my interpretation of said idea is that women's bodies should be hidden, because any demonstration of ownership of sexuality is offensive and automatically degrading to women. In my opinion, such an attitude can lead to further patriarchal (i.e., men's) control over women's bodies to extremely detrimental effect. However, I don't argue that all women should dress like the Pussycat Dolls did in this video. They're definitely dressed to please a certain audience.

I don't agree with calling the PCD offensive names. Keep in mind: Who are the producers? Who are the choreographers? What desires and expectations drive the market? Ugh. Simultaneously, the women do presumably possess a degree of freedom over their lives. Hence it is unproductive both to blame and to victimize the women. It's critical to recall that women should be able to choose how to represent themselves physically, sexually, etc. This video doesn't seem to do a great job of allowing a variety of independent self-expression in those areas. The irony of the whole video is that it ends with the PCD holding their fists in the air, a historic gesture of solidarity and empowerment. It's disheartening that such a valuable message as "I don't need a man", full of spunk and potential, is massively distorted and trivialized in this video.

Bad Dates, Classism, and Talking about Oppression

Hey everyone! My first time blogging on my very own blog (blogging experience gained thanks to the Minnesota Women's Consortium).

I feel the need to reflectively blog about a recent happening in my life. I went on a terrible date. No, this is not going to be a whining post. Rather, I realized after the conversations with this person occurred that the differences we were encountering were not only ideological but also very much stemming from class.

To start at the beginning: Basically this guy was from my past; had once been interested in me (nearly a decade ago, ha). After I contacted him this summer to apologize for some earlier rude treatment, he randomly contacted me a few weeks ago. Because I hadn't talked to him in nearly a decade, I inquired about his high school experience. "I hated it," he said. Understandable, I thought; many people don't like their high schools. "There was this one teacher who made our life hell; we made her life hell. She kept telling us we were racist just because she had a black boyfriend. She was shoving all this diversity crap down our throats."

At this point I interjected, "I work for the Department of Multicultural Life at my school; we talk about those issues a lot so I find those discussions interesting. However, it sounds like maybe the way she was going about introducing those issues wasn't the best way or very effective." Nodding, he said, "Yeah, she had us read all these books about women's oppression...she'd ask me and my friends questions and we'd just tell her, you know, 'frankly, we just don't see it.'" He smirked to himself, clearly impressed by this memory and his apparently clever answer.

"Just so you know, I'm a women's studies major; I'm also a feminist, so you should just know that those things are important to me. You're entitled to your opinions, but you should be aware," I commented, getting uncomfortable. "What kind of class was it supposed to be?" I asked. "It was supposed to be an American lit[erature] class!" he said incredulously. "Well you know," I began, "oftentimes there's a single perspective given preference by the people who design the courses. I think it's important to listen to the other voices we aren't accustomed to hearing. To me that class sounds very interesting."

After my mention of feminism, I told him that I'm not enthralled with the political two-party system. I don't like to align myself with one particular political group. He echoed that statement, but then added, "If you had to put me somewhere on the spectrum, though, I'm probably far right. Pretty much the opposite of you," he ventured. I think I just half-nodded, increasingly pondering how to handle the situation. I don't consider myself far left, but in terms of feminism I can be fairly radical. Ironically, once the date took a bad turn, I found myself thinking, "What would Betty do?" because Betty Suarez on Ugly Betty often sits through bad dates; she's someone I admire so it was helpful to compose myself accordingly.

Somehow the conversation drifted elsewhere, and we were discussing career paths. He's studying mechanical engineering "only for the money," because "I hate this state." Again, understandable, I thought, since it can be stifling to stay in the same place for your entire life. Though I was getting very negative vibes from him, I decided to push my through the conversation. Then he told me he recently went to the casino. "Oh, how was that?" I inquired, searching for a discussion topic.

WARNING: THIS MAY BE OFFENSIVE to some, so please don't read on if you're concerned about oppressive comments.

"I won like $14. I don't gamble much; I just don't like giving my money to the Indians," he went on. Taken aback, I then asked something to the effect of, "Excuse me? You mean the Native Americans?" "Yeah, I mean, they don't pay taxes," he said in an unfriendly tone. I don't know much about who does or doesn't pay taxes, but I then had to say, "This is the point at which I can't be quiet. You do know we kind of massacred the Native Americans when we took over the U.S.?" "Yeah but if they want equal rights as citizens, they should pay taxes. It makes me nervous having them handle my money," he defended. "Two of my friends I'm living with are Native American, and it's really opened my eyes to the injustices perpetuated...I don't feel good. I don't feel comfortable in this conversation," I requested my check from the waitress, who kindly wished that I feel better.

"We don't have to talk about this. I mean, we can talk about something else. I'm not easily offended," he replied, clearly surprised and slightly confused. "No, I think I better get going. I'm uncomfortable," was my repeated response. He decided to leave at the same time, and as I turned toward my house, feeling increasingly upset, I managed to say, "Have a nice life," because I don't ever intend to see him again. I think he mentioned something about getting together again but I certainly didn't listen closely.

I vented angrily and with disgust to both my mom and several friends, expecting sympathy etc. I mostly received sympathy, but two friends also offered uniquely honest perspectives. My first friend suggested that I should open this young man's mind by continuing the conversation. At the time, I couldn't at all imagine doing that, and said so rather defensively to my friend. From my experiences at a high school which I felt wasn't often open to such dialogue, I felt I would hit a dead end of mutual admission of difference in the conversation. There's nothing wrong with admitting differences, but I felt that the point of difference had already been reached, though via a rougher route.

However, one of my other friends whose honesty I also find invaluable raised some discomfort in me by pointing out some of my hypocrisy in my elaboration on the event. I got defensive at the time but now see the value in both these friends' comments and also in the sympathetic reactions I've received. The two friends I've mentioned acutely raised questions about the contradictions of behavior at my college, in which we preach tolerance but in situations like mine we're often intolerant of opposing viewpoints and thereafter close the door on dialogue. Admittedly, one of the key reasons I was so excited to attend my college was that it calls itself 'open-minded'. Nevertheless, I often consider it quite similar to my high school in that I've found both student bodies very homogeneous ideologically and politically, to the point where assumptions are made in the classroom and statements considered facts when, in fact, the student body only represents a few microcosms of thought, not the entire world of 'truth', whatever that may be.

Granted, if comments are hurtful it's perfectly legitimate and understandable to exit the conversation (obviously I did just that). My discomfort in the situation was valid; a person shouldn't have to partake in a discussion which hurts perself or others with whom that individual is allied. Additionally, my defense of myself as a woman and defense of others dear to me was also critical and very legitimate.

Nevertheless, the ideologies which this young man propagates are unquestionably a hybrid product of his race, class, upbringing and experiences. Hence, the way in which I defend myself and friends, and subsequently how I discuss that reaction, could be modified to increase awareness of the immense privilege which I possess in being able to name and discuss oppression at an elite, private, ridiculously expensive liberal arts college in the United States. From hearing this young man's motivations for choosing his course of study, I should recognize the significant differences in the types of education we're receiving and consequently what we consider valuable. In my heated reactions to my friends, I may've come across as somewhat self-righteous, an attitude I find unproductive; I don't see myself as a savior and don't want to act as if I am. On the other hand, being an ally outside the college bubble is extremely important to combat racism, sexism, homophobia, ableism, and all other hurtful behaviors and forms of oppression. I can't forget that classism is another harmful form of oppression, which is deeply tied to race relations, gender/sex relations, and other ways in which we categorize ourselves and relate to others. Finally, it's necessary to understand how be a strong ally in an effective, class-aware manner with people who haven't received or pursued the same educational avenues.

If any of y'all have ideas as to how to promote alliance and related conversations in a non-hierarchical, non-classist manner, please share.

Thanks for reading,
Lolly