Undocumented and Awkward
I am currently in love with DREAMers Adrift, “a creative project ABOUT undocumented youth, BY undocumented youth, and FOR undocumented youth.” Through video, art, and writing, they are working to bring attention to the situation of undocumented youth in the U.S., keeping an eye on the inequalities that exist even with the DREAM movement. I would say that my favorite project of theirs is the “Undocumented and Awkward” Series, little shorts that draw attention to the daily awkward moments, and flashes of fear that undocumented youth deal with every day.
Check out their blog here.
Rape Convictions
Here’s a sad statistic for you: out of every 100 rapists that exist in the U.S., 97 are walking free right now. Yes, only 3% of rapists are imprisoned for their crimes. You might assume that this is because victims are not reporting their rapists, however, according to this RAINN article, the number of reports has increased slightly over the years, while the percentage of rapists that go to prison has decreased.
This is a staggering statistic not only because it means that rapists are not being punished, but because, as the article points out, rape is often a repeat crime, meaning that these people are likely to rape again.
To Republicans: Get in My Vagina
Too good. Just too good.
Silenced
As someone who has worked as an abortion escort, this animated short made me think about the ways in which violence, or the threat of violence limit freedom of expression even in places like the United States, even in public spaces like clinic parking lots.
For more info about the film, click here.
How To Lose Your Virginity
I REALLY want to see this film. Let’s all donate to the Kickstarter campaign to make sure it gets completed?
ChocQuibTown
Have you heard of Chocquibtown? I recently laid my ears on some of their music, and I’m addicted to the sound of this Afro-Colombian band, mixing hip-hop beats with sounds of salsa, cumbia, and Latino America. But what I love most about them is that within their music, they bring to the stage a community who is often forgotten: Afro-Colombians.
Colombia has a very large population of African descendents, since 200,000 Africans were imported into the Colombia, Ecuador and Panama region over the stretch of the slave trade. Today, Afro-Colombians constitute up to 21% of the country’s population, though these numbers are not exact, as many Afro-Colombians do not choose to identify themselves as such, aware of the discrimination and lack of opportunities that comes with such an identity. But the fact remains that “Colombia is considered to have the third largest Black/African-descent population in the western hemisphere, following Brazil and the USA” (wikipedia article). This Urb piece explains this perfectly in the following quote:
“Of all the disappearing acts that punctuate Colombia’s history—from presidential candidates to drug kingpins, FARC warriors, and cocaine jets—none is more deceptive than that of an entire race. Four-hundred years after Spaniards brought African slaves here to mine for gold, most Colombians would rather forget that one in of five Colombians is black. No black beauty queens, no black Juan Valdéz, no black president here. Hell, even Shakira has straightened her hair.”
In this interview with Cuentame, the group talks a bit about the meaning behind their music.
In this music video called “Oro,” for which the group won a Grammy, they draw attention to the history of colonization and gold extraction in Colombia.
And in this video, Chocquibtown sings about where they come from, the Pacific coast of Colombia, using a play on words to refer to the Pacific coast, and the fact that they are peaceful people.
For more sources and information on the situation of Afro-Colombianos, check out other music groups such as La Etnia and Voodoo Souljahs, or watch the film Uprooted (link), which talks a bit about the ways in which Afro-Colombianos are often the primary victims of the violence and turmoil that is wracking the country.
Check out this awesome organization called Afro Colombia NY (link) which collects news and information about the Afro-Colombian information. They even have a compilation of Afro-Colombian music for your self education, free and available for download here.
Libélula: Tribo das Meninas
So I’ve posted on my travel blog about the work that I’m doing in Bahia, Brazil recently, but I thought that this bit of news was worth sharing here too. For those of you who don’t know, I’ve been interning with an organization called Libélula, located in a small beach town called Itacaré, located on the northern coast of Brazil. Libélula has a cultural center where we work to provide a safe space for girls from an at-risk neighborhood. In this center, besides pyscho-social support, we provide art, computer, English, and Human Development (I’m the teacher!) classes. My work here has taught me so much, and has been such a fulfilling learning experience. On my travel blog I’ve talked a bit about the frustrations and challenges of working with the girls, our International Women’s Day Parade, and a bit about the reality of the girls we work with. But I haven’t yet shown off the product of my work! Voilà the website I have been slaving over the past month. Click the image to check it out!
Pink Stinks
Ever get sick of the intense marketing of pink products to little girls? Yes? Well so does Pink Stinks, a “a campaign that targets the products, media and marketing that prescribe heavily stereotyped and limiting roles to young girls.” They list the following aims on their site: a) To challenge and reverse this growing trend, b) To promote media literacy, self-esteem, positive body image and female role models for kids.
And they also have a pretty snazzy video that gives you a visual idea of what they’re talking about.
Take a look at their site: Pinkstinks.org.uk.
Stop Forced Sterilization!
Love this. Subheading reads:
“The bottom has “In Puerto Rico, 1/3 of the women of child-bearing age – sterilized/ In the U.S., 20% of Black married women – sterilized/ In India, men and women sterilized by law./ Too many people is not the problem; people are our most precious resource. Yet billions of U.S. dollars are spent on population control while funds are cut for food, health care and child care. U.S. Imperialism is the problem. It steals the land; tears resources from the earth; robs and RESIST!”
Found via Favianna Rodriguez.
Abortion Access: It’s About the Money
Once upon a time, there was a law called Roe v. Wade. It was a law generally well-liked by most of the women in the land, as it allowed them to control their pregnancies and spend their time doing other things. But unfortunately, about three years after this long-awaited law was implemented, another one came around to impede on the women’s rights. The Hyde Amendment was created to ban Medicaid funding for abortions that were not required to save a woman’s life, and later if the pregnancy was a result of rape or incest. Everyone but the Queen got pretty pissed, since no one else could easily afford the price of an out of pocket abortion. And they all lived frustratedly-ever after. The End.
Has anyone else noticed that within the current debate on abortion, it seems that our biggest concern is defending our rights to abortion free of waiting periods, ultrasounds and mandatory interviews. The assumption is that this is the best way to increase access, yet according to this 2005 article by the National Network of Abortion Funds, money is actually a bigger obstacle for most women. Low-income women are more likely to have limited access to contraception, therefore more at-risk for unplanned pregnancies, and tend to need abortions more. However, they are also less likely to have insurance coverage that will pay for the procedure, relying instead on Medicaid, which only covers abortion in cases of rape/incest or threat to the woman’s life.
However, even women who are pregnant as a result of rape or incest, or whose lives are at risk rarely receive the coverage they need. This NNAF article reports that within the 33 states that do not fund the procedure themselves, “Medicaid pays for less than 1% of abortions.” Imagine, a girl has just been raped, and in the process of dealing with such a trauma, she has to fill out form after form explaining why she should receive coverage to terminate a pregnancy that was forced upon her. Often the process takes so long that the money does not arrive in time for the woman to have an abortion. And we wonder why late-term abortions happen? It’s not because women are lazy, or irresponsible. It’s because they are working to find the money to pay for the procedure.
As it is, about 74% of women who receive the procedure pay out of their own pockets, an average price of $468 (for a first-trimester abortion). If they can’t round up the money in time, the price raises to $774 at 16 weeks, and $1,179 at 20 weeks. And if they just can’t get a hold of the money at all? The article quotes that “as many as one in three poor women who would have an abortion if the procedure were covered by Medicaid are forced to continue the pregnancy.”
Certainly, waiting periods, ultrasounds and mandatory interviews are also big obstacles to access. So is the lack of functioning clinics. If you can’t afford to pay for your abortion, the likelihood that you will be able to pay for the gas or transportation to the nearest (and probably not so near) clinic, a hotel while you undergo the mandatory waiting period, and child care for the children you most likely have at home (since the majority of women seeking abortions already have children) is low.
In other words, we need to make insurance coverage of abortion an equal priority. Access isn’t just laws, it’s about money, which is directly tied to class and race.
For more information or ways to help, check out the National Network of Abortion Funds at fundabortionow.org.
Conception is Special in Arizona
So Arizona recently passed a ban on abortions after 20 weeks, and a requirement that women have an ultrasound at least 24 hours before the abortion. The law is a huge setback for women, though not particularly surprising from a state like Arizona.
Well at least there are comedy troups to make us laugh even when things are going so bad. This particular video (via Feminists For Choice) pokes fun at the ridiculous definition of conception used in the bill’s language. Enjoy!
Detachable Vaginae
This video is sort of hilarious, but then also makes me kind of sad. Listening to her talk about the things we women could do if it weren’t for our vaginas makes me think about the things we can’t do, since we do have vaginas. And listening to what men would do with vaginas if it weren’t for the women attached to them makes me even sadder….
The Twisted Path of Street Harassment
An awesome diagram I grabbed from Erik Kondo’s very thorough blog “3A’s of Street Harassment Disruption.” Thanks Erik!
Pink Ribbons, Inc.
So I finally finished my Christmas present from my parents. It only took me 4 months, not because the book was bad, but rather because it was rather dense, and even though it’s only 124 pages long, I couldn’t bring myself to finish a page without taking extensive notes on it. Pink Ribbons, Inc. is really a fascinating look at a phenomenon that has become so normal to those of us who have grown up in the era of the breast cancer movement. In her book, Samantha King examines in particular the work of the Susan B. Komen Foundation, why it has become so popular, and why it is so problematic.
She starts her analysis detailing the shift in U.S. government policies that caused the overwhelming privatization of social welfare programs. This left a large gap, which began to be filled by non-profits and NGOs, generating an opportunity for private corporations to get involved, taking advantage of a chance to attract more customers. And thus, cause-related marketing was born, leading to “major, long-term commitments to an issue through an alliance that links the company or brand name with the issue in the consumer’s mind” (9 King). King explains how we moved into an era in which corporations asked us to believe that through consumption, or small monetary contributions, we could tackle large and complex issues like cancer, that we could make significant headway in preventing and curing it. We were asked to have “faith in the power of positive thinking, the promotion of research into finding a cure for cancer above research focusing on prevention, and the belief that large infusions of money into research can conquer anything have been remarkably durable features of the various manifestations of the alliance against cancer in the twentieth century” (38 King).
But why did breast cancer rise above other diseases the way it did, garnering such overwhelming support from government agencies and private corporations? In answer to this, King brings attention to the way in which the movement was framed as an effort to protect American motherhood and family “from a disease that threatens not just individual lives but also the normalized socioeconomic identities and relationships that constitute the nuclear family” (45 King). In other words, breast cancer threatened to hurt one of our favorite body parts, one that represents ideals of feminine sexuality, and women’s main contribution to society and citizenship: motherhood. King argues that breast cancer is not in itself naturally uncontroversial, but rather that it has been “constructed over the past two decades as a unifying issue that is somehow beyond the realm of politics, conflict, or power relations” (112). The movement has made little effort to address what King refers to as “burdens and barriers,” such as the harmful chemicals that may cause the disease, or the disproportionate rate at which African-American women die of breast cancer compared to white women.
Perhaps my favorite chapter is called “The Culture of Survivorship and the Tyranny of Cheerfulness,” in which she talks about the belief within the breast cancer movement that a positive attitude is all that is needed to cure oneself. She discusses how a lot of the work that the Komen Foundation does is around raising awareness about early detection but does little to support women once they are diagnosed, instead using rhetoric that instills them with the individual responsibility to–through cheerfulness and endurance–heal oneself. She suggests that women who do not survive the disease are seen as not having tried hard enough.
These are just a few tidbits of parts of the book that grabbed my attention. It was well worth the careful reading, and left me with an increasingly skeptical view of the Komen Foundation, and the consumerist activism that our society has come to foster. I certainly believe that we need to stop breast cancer, but I would encourage Komen and other such foundations to increase their focus on access, and addressing the reasons that certain women have such higher rates than others, instead of pouring all their money into research for a cure that we may not find for decades to come.
Having an Abortion When No One Called Me a Slut
Have you read this piece? It’s a great Op-Ed from the New York Times about what it used to be like to get an abortion, and the answer is: easier. The article comes a little close to saying that it was a breeze to access abortion services in the ’70s, which I think we can all agree is not completely true. Has it ever been a breeze? But the larger point is that we have regressed so devastatingly in the past few years in terms of access, and due to the government’s involvement and concerted effort to further reduce that access. Anyways, click here for the whole article.
“It wasn’t always like this.
This is a story of how it used to be:
It’s 1978, five years after Roe v. Wade. I’m 38, I have four sons — the oldest is 17, the youngest is turning 12. I’m at school, getting a B.A., and I’m loving it.
I’m about two and a half months pregnant.
I don’t want this child.”
Street Harassment: Link Leftovers
While writing my recent rant against the men who harass me every day here in our little Brazilian beach town I did a lot of research on street harassment, digging up fun links and photos. A lot of those didn’t make it into the post though, so I wanted to share my favorites in a separate piece, just for funsies.
For a great list of “Assertive Responses” to street harassment from StopStreetHarassment.com click here. Some of my favorite suggestions are:
2. Tell them exactly what you want. Say, for example, “move away from me,” “stop touching me,” or “go stand over there.”
9. Ask a Socratic question such as, “That’s so interesting – can you explain why you think you can put your hand on my leg?”
11. Buy a notebook and write in bold letters on the cover “Street Harassment.” Take out the notebook when you are harassed and ask the harasser to repeat himself so you can write it down. Make a big show of asking for the date, time, checking the place you are at, etc. If they ask why you’re writing things down, you can say you are keeping a record of harassment.
12. Tell the harasser that you are conducting a street harassment research project or survey. Take out a notebook and start asking them questions such as, “How often do you do this?” or “How do you choose which people to harass?” or “Are you more likely to do this when you are alone or when you’re with other people,” or “Do you discuss people you harass with your mother, sister, or female friends?”
Hollaback, the organization of US fame, has launched websites for chapters all around the world. Check out Argentina Hollaback, Istanbul Hollaback and more. If I was going to be in Brazil much longer, I would start a chapter here!
And lastly, three images that made me laugh (here) made me think (here) and made me want to hold a sign like this (here).
Manifesto To That Guy On the Street
To that guy who I pass on the street every day I leave my house,
The first time you called out a “hey hottie!” to me, I was a tiny bit flattered. The attention felt nice, and I was glad I had worn lipstick today. The second time you catcalled me, I was a bit confused, looking down at my very sweaty gym clothing. The third time I didn’t even consider my clothing, anticipating your wolf whistle, and walking by with my eyes fixed resolutely to the ground, so as to not encourage you. The fifth and sixth and seventh and 4,789th time I was annoyed, and depending on my mood before passing you I was at times really angry.
Ever since that first time, your “hey baby”s are not compliments to me. They leave me feeling threatened, aggressed and most importantly inconvenienced. Because I didn’t ask to interact with you today. Because for once, I want to walk home without having to think about myself as a sexual being, without thinking of myself as a combination of boobs, ass, and legs. On the days when you don’t call out, those stares you and your friends give me make me feel like a car being sized up, as your eyes start from my breasts, moving across to my ass as I pass you by. I wonder if it ever occurs to you that there is also a face, eyes, a brain and a heart in this body. Most of all, each time that I pass you, I wonder why the fuck I am the one with my eyes cast to the ground, when it’s you who should be ashamed of yourself.
Sometimes I wonder why you do it. I wonder if you understand the degree to which your harassment and that of your fellow men reminds women every day that public spaces do not fully belong to them and that their “participation, freedom of movement and behavior” (citation) in such places is dependent on the men present in those spaces at any given time. Reminds them that they are sexual beings created for men. I believe that “women deserve the same right to privacy in public that most men enjoy” (citation) and walking home each day, I hate that you break into my thoughts with your obnoxious and worthless comments.
I know that my way of dressing often attracts attention. Yes, I love to wear red lipstick and bright colors, low-cut dresses and big earrings. Some people have called it exotic, flamboyant, eclectic. But here’s the thing: I don’t wear it for you. And it enrages me to no end the amount of times I have gotten dressed and then reconsidered, thinking about how close you will approach me today on the street, how many men will be sitting at your side, ready to join in the “fun.” The amount of time I spend each day calculating whether I need to cross the street, or step off the sidewalk to avoid you today, as if I didn’t have a right to the sidewalk, or “your” side of the street.
Activist Chris Crass once noted that our patriarchal society had taught him as a man that he was “entitled to women’s bodies, entitled to take up space and put my ideas and thoughts out there whenever I wanted to, without consideration for others.” I wonder if that’s the reason that men feel the need to express their opinions about my body so much. Like the time my white professor felt that it was appropriate for him to refer to me as an exotic woman, or why you think it’s important that I know how you feel about my legs. I wonder if it justifies the old man who blatantly slowed to swing his head check out my 13 year-old student’s ass while I was having a conversation with her. Or the fact that the doormen to my apartment building like to murmur opinions on my appearance as I leave the house. Has it ever occurred to them that every time they do this, I become less and less comfortable going to them for help, or even greeting them? They are the very men who let me in and out of my home, the only place I am safe from being sexualized, and I can’t make eye contact with them.
I think about my experience in Argentina of having my taxi driver show me his penis, playing back the scene over and over, trying to understand what kind of world I live in where someone would think that was even vaguely ok. The man seemed to think it was the funniest thing, referring to it with some sick pet name as I gasped in horror. The only thing I could think about afterwards, as I sat shaking in disgust, was that no matter how traumatized I was that this man may have been masturbating while conversing with me was that I got off easy. That I have friends who have had their faces smashed against car windows, been raped in the dark. All I saw was a sick man’s penis.
People like to argue that it’s cultural. “Latin men just like to flirt, don’t let it get to you.” Trust me, I love flirting, and this is not it. Flirting requires two sides to be actively participating, and with my eyes glued to the cobble stones in front of me, this is not the case. For it to be cultural, a general majority of the society needs to engage in its practice, and with half the population missing, I think we can rule that out.
So, to the man I pass on the street every time I leave my house:
If you feel so entitled to put out your opinions onto my body, I am equally entitled to give you a dose of mine. If it takes me stopping and reading this letter to you every time you call out to me, then I will do it, over and over again until the day that I can walk home without being threatened, sexualized or bothered, left alone to my own thoughts. I believe that is my right, as a human being making her way home.
America
I wish I looked as patient as this teacher when I try to explain this concept.
Duloren: Do YOU Feel Powerful?
What would you do to sell lingerie? Make incredibly racist, homophobic, sexist ads? Thought so. Or at least, that’s what the Brazilian underwear brand Duloren has been doing. With their ad campaign captioned “You can’t imagine what a Duloren is capable of doing,” they have made all sorts of ads trying to give us an idea, whether it be a woman who is apparently capable of exorcising someone in a bra and panties, a woman who can pose in front of a Brazilian flag for Independence Day, or two women who can kiss while in their panties. This particular ad is captioned “Homoaffective relationships are approved. Really? I thought that we were already free to do whatever we wanted,” and made 100% for men fantasizing about lesbian women. They even go so far as to use the Brazilian goddess Iemanjá, the goddess of the sea, in one of their ads, suggesting that “You can’t imagine what a Duloren is capable of.” She could even be Iemanjá.
But perhaps the worst ad of theirs that I have seen yet is the one above. Just to give a little context, the ad is referring to the fact that the last two major, centrally-located favelas of Rio de Janeiro were recently pacified last fall. The pacification process in Rio was very controversial, starting at the same time as other preparations for the 2014 Olympic Games. I would explain a bit more about how favela’s functioned before and after the pacification, but my friend, the amazing writer and photographer Michael Wolff does a much better job of it in the following quote from his blog:
“Well-armed criminal organizations have dominated the politics and social order in these areas since the 1980s, replacing or precluding the State in its most basic functions. Although they tend to provide some form of public security within their communities, these criminal organizations both invite high levels of factional violence and impede social and economic development. Further, their existence corrodes the legitimacy of state institutions, politicians as well as police. The historical lack of political will to avoid or reverse this reality is at least partially due to the collusion of state authorities and institutions in the lucrative trafficking of illegal arms and drugs. Rio de Janeiro’s selection to host the World Cup games and the Olympics, however, has altered the political landscape in favor of a comprehensive plan to impose State control in all areas of the city.”
This is all to explain what you are seeing in this image: a black woman dressed in Duloren underwear, having just finished “dominating” the white UPP (Police Pacification Unit) officer laying on the ground. The caption reads “Pacifying is easy. I want to see you dominate.” The smaller text on the bottom tells us that this woman’s name is Ana Paula da Conceição Soares, and that she works in a waxing salon in Rocinha, Rio’s largest and most notorious favela. In other words, she is the ultimate stereotype of a favela inhabitant.
This ad relies on the intersection of classicism, sexism, and racism to work. What we are told is that this woman, having in many ways lost her liberty and power to a white police man through the “pacification” and invasion of her community, feels the need to regain that power. And that as a poor, black woman living in a favela, the only way she has to do that is to use her sexual prowess and seduce him into submission. Duloren’s underwear helps her out there. This idea calls on a long history of sexualizing the mulatta as the temptress and mistress, the woman meant for sex but not for marriage. Or otherwise put, the woman whose sole purpose is as a sexual object.
I’m sorry Duloren, but this image does not make me feel in the least bit powerful. Nor does her ability to “dominate” a UPP officer make me see her as powerful. Really, it just disgusts me that you really think she is in fact so powerless.
To check out another ad analysis discussing the Brazilian stereotype of the mulatta, go here.