As members of Gabriela protested outside the US embassy in Manila, police used batons and shields to break up the rally.
Glorious Announcement
Just so ya’ll know, I’m ecstatic to report that I am the newest editor to join Make/Shift magazine.
A non-profit, indie feminist magazine, Make/Shift is simply the most inclusive and progressive magazine among all the ones out there documenting the evolving feminisms .
I’m very proud and honored to join such an amazing force of change and energy.
Word of the day: SUBSCRIBE.
Great News!
As many of you know, I have been working on my writing career for quite some time now. If I’m just breaking your bubble now, I’m sorry to report that administrative positions in higher education is NOT my sole purpose in life and I have been actively working on my writing career in the field of creative non-fiction, investigative journalism, essay, prose, and poetry. These specific genres are my strengths and I focus specifically on women’s issues, feminism, and social justice.
There’s a lot of misconception about these issues, particularly feminism, that I have spent many years trying to dismantle. The difficulty lies in explaining this to everyone that asks, “So, what do you do?” Well, just like any other non-traditional kind of job, writing has no specific track. There are no guarantees for success, salary, or benefits. I utilize my other skills and degrees for more secure positions (my job at the Women’s Center at Miami University, my Resident Director positon here at Emerson College) that afford flexibility to write my little heart out when I can. Nick has been an extremely supportive partner in this respect, always comforting me when my articles get turned down, when my pitches to magazines are denied, or when my poetry is reviewed with less than an approving eye.
The great news is that I have recently been hired for (part-time) an Editor position with Make/Shift magazine. An independent, non-profit magazine that is dedicated to featuring artists, writers, and activists, Make/Shift is a dream come true for me. Its holistic philosophies and dedication to social justice is a refreshing breath from mainstream magazines and media.
For those who are not familiar with the independent scene, the best analogy I can come up with is mainstream vs. independant films. While Blockbusters may roll in the millions with the likes of Will Smith, Renee Zellweger, or couch jumping freak Tom Cruise, indie films are more known for their deep, artistic, and lower budget styles. Indie films are intentionally different because their values are not in money making or operating under a growth model (i.e. production, “bigger is better” mentality).
The same is true for literature and magazines. Make/Shift is not trying to be a Time or National Geographic magazine. It’s based in Los Angeles and their editors are free to live whereever they please as long as they have working computers and internet access. My Editor position is dedicated to keeping my ear to the ground and report the latest and greatest news concerning the issues encompassed in feminism: politics, sexuality, art, conferences, publications, the environment, music, and international news concerning women’s rights.
If this entire post has left you wondering, still, what in the hell I am doing, no worries. Just know that I just accepted an incredible position that makes me outrageously excited. Check out its website: http://www.makeshiftmag.com/
You Can Go Where the Sun Don’t Shine, NOW
I’m so furious right now, I can’t write very much about this. More to come later this week when I have time to calm down.
Have you ever read something or overheard a conversation that makes you so furious that you could swear it has taken years off your life?
That’s pretty much what happened when I read this article from the Washington Post about Hillary and feminism. I don’t know if I want to vomit over NOW now or later. Essentially implying that Black womyn are choosing “race over gender,” young women are “forgetting” that their rights came from feminists like Hillary, and Barack supporters are only supporting him because we are anti-womyn.
NOW has officially lost any credibility with me. It lost the 2 grains of sand it earned over the past 7 years. Does anyone need further proof that “mainstream” feminists like Steinem and “mainstream” orgs like NOW are living in a world run and dominated solely by white women who have NO NO NO idea what true equality for ALL womyn look like? How many more times will they box womyn of color as unthinking mules who cannot choose for themselves? How many more times will media manipulate feminism into guilt tripping womyn to vote for another womyn simply because of gender?
My call to my readers: pull back the blankets to see the naked truth of politics, media, and “feminist” organizations. The greatest challenge to radical liberation is mainstream feminism.
Asian/APIA Feminism
What up everyone – welcome to March!
Happy Women’s Herstory Month!
To kick off this fantastic month of womynhood, Profbwoman has a p-h-e-n-o-m-e-n-a-l list of Asian and APIA feminists whose work speaks for itself.
Ahhh, the pride….
Listening to the Feminist Blogosphere
My last post Fertility and Invisibility seems to be right in time for the latest debacle in the feminist blogosphere. Once again, I am convinced that neither pro-choice or pro-life is where I want to set up camp.
Here’s the story:
Once upon a time, BlackAmazon writes one of her brilliant pieces that centralize attention on Soutthall Black Sisters, a non-profit in peril of closing and in desperate need of help. In her powerful probing, she writes
For those who don’t know, she is speaking of Margaret Sanger.
Then, Apostate, a self-declared important person to Planned Parenthood writes, “Inexcusable Attack on PP – Is the Feminist Blogosphere Without Conscience?” and blasts BA for “stupid” comments and paints BA as “someone [who] uses her status as the Voice of Women of Color to spread a canard.”
Dude, I don’t even know what a CANARD is, but I do know from history that BA NEVER CLAIMS TO BE THE VOICE OF WOMYN OF COLOR.
::arms flailing::
I want everyone to form a line who think that one blogger, writer, activist speak for “all women of color…” Like one black womyn speaks for all black womyn. Like I speak for all Filipino Americans. Like how you speak for an entire community. I don’t think so. I’m SO sick of hearing this line and I’m even more tired of BA being accused of things she doesn’t even say or implicate.
So, for the millionth time in the feminist blogosphere, the usual equation rolls:
Step 1
A powerful womyn of color with knowledge of and experience with life history and a keyboard writes a moving post about a significant issue taking place someone in the world that is affecting poor womyn of color; in that post she references a FACT that sends a blast toward a successful organization.
Step 2
Someone from aforementioned organization or who has ties or who has worked on its behalf sees blood in the water and defends (attacks).
Step 3
People respond. With facts.
Step 4
An open thread invites womyn of color to educate on what should be done follows
:: sighs that last 4 minutes long::
Alright, look, I’m not an expert on Rep Rights. I’m not an expert on PP. I don’t even engage in these attacks anymore on other’s blogs because it always leads to the same place – nowhere. But I do know a few things about feminism, voice, and criticism. Here’s what I know from the feminist blogosphere:
1) I know that anytime a person of unusual reflecting power is offering words of perspective, I should listen. I don’t have to agree, but I take the cue that it’s time to quiet myself and take in another person’s life for a moment and try to understand where they are writing from (both literally and metaphorically)
2) I know that I, a womyn of color, have knowledge that is beyond quantifiable dates, stats, and publication houses. It’s called life observation. I’m not trying to write a book or crack a whip with it, but I do have an opinion from it. Others are afforded the same, I’m pretty sure. And if I disagree (which, by the way, I do disagree with others about 98% of the time), I refrain from name calling, even in the name of defense. Maybe it’s me, I just think it discredits an argument.
3) Planned Parenthood has done incredible work and I know several people who work there that continue its noble mission. However, just like any organization, Planned Parenthood is capable of problematic histories, dark practices, and even racism. And while the charge to move past history and focus on “now” is tempting, it’s outright dangerous to discard the power of memory, lesson, and the revolving door of oppression. History is Always relevant to contemporary issues. Always.
As brilliant Sylvia writes, focusing on the “now” and excluding the power of history is dangerous tactic proven by politicians, policy makers, and writers.
So, this has led to a place where I conteplate, for the 783028 time this month, the futility of feminist blogs. Should I bother engaging with others when I *know* I’ll just get shut down because of my mouthy manners? Should I bother even trying to make my voice heard or make myself known? It’s so dark out there. And then I am led to Aaminah.
I’ve been thinking about that a lot lately and I have to admit, when I read Apostate’s post, I wasn’t moved by her defense of PP, listing of its great works, or her interesting history as a Pakistani immigrant, I was turned off by this all too familiar feeling when someone isn’t *listening* to what another person is offering.
For as little as we bloggers know one another (and I agree with Aaminah – no one *knows* me strictly from my blog), the only bloggers I trust are the ones with the most engaging questions. It’s not about tone, it’s not about resume, or where you’ve been. I don’t form “enemies,” or at least, I don’t seek to form enemies. Nor do I view anyone as “the enemy.” (That rhetoric is a bit too George W. for me) It’s the deep, profound questioning blogs that I swim toward. Apostate’s back to back questions were, “Is the Feminist Blogosphere Without Conscience?” followed by “What Do You Want Planned Parenthood to Do?” reinstate my fear that we, as womyn, have not come very far in the simple but instrumental feat in learning how to listen.
And so, I reply to a fellow blogger’s question, “Is the Feminist Blogosphere Without Conscience?”
I speak from my own voice and say, “I have a conscience, yes, but I listen first.”
-En lucha.
The Ivory Tower is the Assassin’s Hiding Place
I am beginning a series with this title: The Ivory Tower is the Assassin’s Hiding Place because of recent events at U of M. Get this: Andrea Smith was denied tenure.
Before anything, she was nominated for the Nobel freaking Prize.
For those who are new to my blog, you may not know this about me. Because I worked and studied for so in the academy, I take the honor (and fun) of trying to dismantle (smear) the political patriarchy that bolsters its teaching (war zoned) buildings.
When I was an undergrad at Jesuit institution, one of the prayer petitions offered during mass was for “all the professors up for tenure. ” A few weeks later, one of the most brilliant and gifted professors was denied. A flurry of outrage from students and the community captivated the campus. I was one of his students, familiar with is passion and light, but knew nothing about the tenure process, and very little about the other side (business, administration, faculty) of academic life in general. The administration issued a statement that the tenure granting process has, really, “nothing to do with students” and I agreed. Who I am to speak up for a professor? What do I know about what goes on in the shadows of an ivory tower? I’m just a student who loves a professor’s work, but I reasoned to myself, “I’m sure there’s more to it that I just don’t and can’t know about. IT’S NOT MY PLACE.”
That’s exactly what they wanted me to think.
Getting vocal about ANDREA freaking SMITH not getting tenure is one of these opportunities to speak up. I do know something about the academic world. I’ve been there, seen it, and recognize its oppressive ways. For those unfamiliar with the academic world, know this for now: it can be, depending on the institution, one of the most dangerous places or womyn of color. I mean, think about it – here is womyn of color scholar who has dedicated her entire life to researching and teaching racism, classism, sexism, and homophobia; she matriculated from some of the most prestigious universities in the world, authored and published ground-breaking work in contentious or unknown fields, and presses young minds forward to think progressively, radically, and independently – and she is denied tenure.
Institutions are supported (funded) by donors (rich White people) who grant (bestow) tenure (protection) and is one of the few (only) ways for scholars (true thinkers) and activists like Andrea Smith (pioneering feminist) to do their creative (brilliant) work (mission).
::sarcasm:: I wonder what this is about.
Just a Few of Her Publications:
o Conquest: Sexual Violence and American Indian Genocide
o Native Americans and the Christian Right: The Gendered Politics of Unlikely
Alliances
o Sacred Sites, Sacred Rites
• Smith is editor and/or co-editor of the following anthologies:
o Color of Violence: The INCITE! Anthology
o The Revolution Will Not Be Funded: Beyond the Non-Profit Industrial
Complex
o Native Feminisms Without Apology
o Forthcoming on theorizing Indigenous Studies
::dry:: Here’s my question – why isn’t this womyn more active?
She has published 15 peer reviewed articles in widely circulated academic journals
including American Quarterly, Feminist Studies, National Women’s Studies
Association Journal, Hypatia, Meridians, and the Journal of Feminist Studies in
Religion
• Smith is the recipient of numerous prestigious awards from organizations such as the
Lannan Foundation, University of Illinois, Gustavus Myers Foundation, Ford
Foundation
• Smith was cited in the U.S. Non-Governmental Organization Consolidated Shadow
Report to the United Nations
• A co-founder of Incite! Women of Color Against Violence and the Chicago chapter
of Women of All Red Nations, she has been a key thinker behind large-scale national
and international efforts to develop remedies for ending violence against women
beyond the criminal justice system. As a result of her work, scholars, social service
providers, and community-based organizations throughout the United States have
shifted from state-focused efforts to more systemic approaches for addressing
GET MOVING…
To Support Professor Andrea Smith: The Provost must hear our responses! Write letters in
support of Andrea Smith’s tenure case. Address email letters to ALL of the following:
• Teresa Sullivan, Provost and Executive VP for Academic Affairs, LSA, tsull@umich.edu
• Lester Monts, Senior Vice Provost for Academic Affairs, LSA, lmonts@umich.edu
• Mary Sue Coleman, President, PresOff@umich.edu
• TenureForAndreaSmith@gmail.com
GET HEARD. PUT IN YOUR SUPPORT.
The Ivory Tower is the Assassin’s Hiding Place
*–Please Distribute Widely and Join Our Local Action Campaign!– *
*
*
*Native Feminism Without Apology!*
*FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE
*February 25, 2008
*Statement of University of Michigan Students and Faculty in Support of
Andrea Smith’s Tenure Case*
CONTACT: TenureForAndreaSm…@gmail.com
On February 22nd, 2008, University of Michigan’s College of Literature,
Science and the Arts (LSA) issued a negative tenure recommendation for
Assistant Professor Andrea Lee Smith. Jointly appointed in the Program in
American Culture and the Department of Women’s Studies, Dr. Smith’s body of
scholarship exemplifies scholarly excellence with widely circulated articles
in peer-reviewed journals and numerous books in both university and
independent presses including *Native Americans and the Christian
Right *published
this year by Duke University Press. Dr. Smith is one of the greatest
indigenous feminist intellectuals of our time. A nominee for the 2005 Nobel
Peace Prize, Dr. Smith has an outstanding academic and community record of
service that is internationally and nationally recognized. She is a
dedicated professor and mentor and she is an integral member of the
University of Michigan (UM) intellectual community. Her reputation and
pedagogical practices draw undergraduate and graduate students from all over
campus and the nation.
Dr. Smith received the news about her tenure case while participating in the
United States’ hearings before the Convention on the Elimination of Racial
Discrimination at the United Nations in Geneva, Switzerland. Ironically,
during those very same hearings, the 2003 U.S. Supreme Court decisions that
restricted affirmative action policies at UM specifically were cited as
violations of international law. At the same time, there is an undeniable
link between the Department of Women’s Studies and LSA’s current tenure
recommendations and the long history of institutional restrictions against
faculty of color. In 2008, students of color are coming together to protest
the way UM’s administration has fostered an environment wherein faculty of
color are few and far between, Ethnic Studies course offerings have little
financial and institutional support, and student services for students of
color are decreasing each year.
*To Support Professor Andrea Smith: * The Provost must hear our
responses! Write
letters in support of Andrea Smith’s tenure case. Address email letters to
ALL of the following:
– Teresa Sullivan, Provost and Executive VP for Academic Affairs, LSA,
ts…@umich.edu
– Lester Monts, Senior Vice Provost for Academic Affairs, LSA,
lmo…@umich.edu
Voice your ideas on the web forum at http://www.woclockdown.org/
*To Support Women of Color at Michigan and the Crisis of Women’s Studies and Ethnic Studies: * Attend the student organized March 15th Conference at UM!!!! *Campus Lockdown: Women of Color Negotiating the Academic Industrial Complex* is free and open to the public. Speakers include renowned activists and scholars Piya Chatterjee, Angela Davis, Rosa Linda Fregoso, Ruthie Gilmore, Fred Moten, Clarissa Rojas, and Haunani-Kay Trask. For more information and to register, visit: http://www.woclockdown.org/.
Happy Birthday To Me
Today is my birthday!
I took the day off work. The city, the world, is mine for the day.
Of course you can leave me unlimited messages of love and imaginary balloons to help me celebrate!
Happy Birthday to me!
2008 State of the Self Address
It is my birthday today and my second annual State of the Self address. I began this last year, on my birthday, to declare who I am, what I am, where, and why I am to the world. Last year, I delivered it to a living room full of loved ones who cheered and applauded me. This year, I write it only my Self and for the 29 years of ballooning experiences I stash under my raincoat.
I am 29 years old.
This world I have grown up in, the country of the United States has brainwashed me to grow and cultivate an addictive dependency on numbers. Compasses, equations, menus, percentages, age, numbers, numbers, numbers everywhere exist to provide direction, comfort, reason, and a measuring stick. Nearly everyone comments on this being my last year of the 20s, a year away from 30. As if there is some pattern of life that I am destined to follow because of 29 being a step before 30. Ech. What if I’m not 1 before 30 and I’m just 29, a life complete as is without wondering what 30 will bring or what 28 left unsigned.
There is nothing “-un” about my life. Everything is finished, everything has closure. A sliver of an opening in a ring is not incomplete, it’s in the state of its destined permanency. The moon is full every night, regardless of what the sun reflects.
John making out with my friend sophomore year in high school while he was my homecoming date.
That reimbursement check in 2002 that my employer was delayed in processing which dented my personal savings.
The package that the mail deliverer said he lost contained irreplaceable photos and videos of childhood moments and priceless pieces of my family and life are gone.
1996 scarred me with a thoughtlessness that would overflow a river.
What we think “should” happen often leaves us in a psychological limbo. What we mark as the hinge that allows the door to swing close is nothing more than an illusion, a helpless, relentless, frantic irrationality that wants control over the ending; the dark side of us that need for it to end the way we need it to end.
There is no control over the ending, only the role we are given in the unfolding. That’s the warped beauty of numbers, of my 10, 592 days. It lets us measure what we think should happen, what shouldn’t happen, and what should have happened. Age is the common pebble to throw in this pond game.
How wasteful are we when we become fixated on what we thought our lives were supposed to be? It was supposed to end with his explanation and my telling him off. I was supposed to receive my check in the mail. The sweaty but smiling mailman was supposed to at my door, offering a shoebox wrapped in brown grocery bags.
The full moon, whether I saw it or not, was that J* made out with T* because he was a horny bastard and I was a shy 15 year old. “Macy” was a motivated but disorganized supervisor who forgot to process my check. That package is never arriving. Ever. Not every wrong finds a humble apologetic.
At 29, I’m supposed to live out one last hoorah, try to find closure with my 20s, sink into my skin before I lean back into the 30s and prepare for a February 2009 trip to Vegas where I’ll wear glittery tank tops and nuzzle my way into a VIP table at a red-lit, red-painted wall bar on the main strip. At 29, I’m supposed to have one more go around the world, steal a kiss from a 21 year old body builder, and learn how to cook a flourless chocolate cake from scratch. The classic novels need my bent elbow, my sex life is to be at full throttle, and my shoe collection is due for a shot of ipecac so I can justify a refreshed podiatric wardrobe.
At 29, I am to be lamenting the gravity and reality of my boobs and hips and spend more time perusing rugs and perfume counters. 29 is the time to cash in my frequent flier miles, find cheap hostels, drain tablets of Dramamine to go whale watching, and connect with old ruins of Europe, kneel on mats in Bali, or kiss the sands of Fiji. Better do it now before kids come.
Ah yes, children.
29 – the dangerously close age to passing primo childbearing years. Enthusiasts for Children talk to me like my organs have their own personalities and minds. Like my ovaries are going to take in a collective sigh and grumble why they haven’t seen the womb fruits of their monthly labor and then just decide to die. The ever competing for attention Uterus will begin talking smack with the ovaries, wondering approximately when Uterus will ever be of use, if at all! As usual, the Fallopian tubes are the peacemakers, the liaison, calming the Ovaries and Uterus, “The time is coming soon, friends. We’re almost past childbearing years! She must know that. No worries!”
(Side note: Don’t think for a moment that I don’t realize timing and planning, in many ways, is a privilege. It stains the asses of those like me who can choose from a variety of lives to lead. I have been afforded choice. Momentarily putting aside the political meaning of the term, my life is one billboard for Pro-Choice, there’s nothing in my life where I did not have at least 3 other options to consider.)
Back to my point:
Yes, at 29, I’m supposed to be “trying” for a baby.
29 has been presented to me as a giant farewell; an act, a year motivated by good-byes. 29 is one giant frill, a forced pep rally for 30. A convincing performance that leaves little doubt that I am ready for maternal responsibility now that I have left no stone unturned in my journey. I am to convince the world (and my Self) that doing these things, pursuing such feats, potteries and achievements, I am bidding adieu to something that has inevitably run its course. The finale, the greatest inaugural sign of the dirty thirties – a baby – is the red exit sign at the door of the decade, symbolizing woman. A belly bump is the most graceful exiting of my 20s. “Expecting” takes the lead from “exploring.”
Once again, the Ought To Theory surfaces with scores of alleys, boulevards and avenues. I do not deny that I want a few of those things; I’m not a wallflower in an abandoned warehouse of society. I seek adventure, travel, love, orgasms, freedom, rarity, and children in my life, too. The difference is how I want them to arrive. I resent the artificial notions of what it means to mathematically mature, to gain one more year, to live life in reaction to an arbitrary number.
The question of time and numbers haunts my 29th birthday. There is a particular verse in the bible that spiritually chases me. I often run in fear of its searing truths. “To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven…A time to be born, a time to die…”
“To everything there is a season.” Everything has a season – jobs, lovers, CD players. Everything has a destined timelines of function and meaning and I am the receiver, observer of these fates. Every relationship, conversation, and moment is temporary; a resounding laugh that eventually fades. Its lasting effect is only as profound as my ability to recognize the significance of its brevity.
I am left to ponder the lesson of time, purpose, agenda, should, and expectation. Who am I after I acknowledge that I do not want Europe or ruins or tea? What is left of me after I proclaim that my perfect partner is all the love I could ever need or dream and no other kiss could steal my heart? Today, I recognize that I am the 29 year old resplendent freak who hates everything 30 minus 1 stands for. I refuse to believe in ridiculous notions of valor and experientially based milestones. I remember the moon is always full whether I see it or not. It’s complete. As is.
There is no shame in me anymore or any regret that would fuel a series of contrived expeditions. Whatever the 20s did, it has stripped it from me. In its place, a phoenix Venus, a trembling certainty, a stirring smoky volcano keeps repeating, “I am enough.”
There will be no Vegas (I don’t think) or alcoholic mosh pits of emotional destruction. There is no “one last” anything or systematic charting my progression.
There is only canvas and color. Aperture and camera. Skin and blankets. Soothe and wind. Resignation and redemption. Acceptance and altruism. Light and forgiveness.
I refute everything I was taught and embrace everything I have learned.
This is my life at 29.