make what you will of the following.

* if you are going to say that the video “glamorizes” abuse/violence, you better have a better reason for saying that than the two lead actors are hot. news flash: workingclass/poor people can be and are hot.

* people in violent relationships have sex. and it is often really really fucking amazingly hot.

* when is anybody going to talk about the intervention that rihanna/eminem just made as hip/hop/r&b type artists in a world that is notorious about supporting abuse against women?

* maybe instead of relaying all the scary stories about how some young girl that you know thinks this song is hot–how about instead, we all talk about how all the feminists are working to create community with young girls so that they have relationships built up whereby they can talk about these videos when they come out? oh, yeah. we do like our child free spaces don’t we. and we wouldn’t want to have mothers dump their kids on anybody.


“I’m a witch woman–high on tobacco and holy water. I’m a woman delighted with her disasters. They give me something to do. A profession of sorts…I have the magic of words. The power to charm and kill at will.”

— Sandra Cisneros


an update on the zine/thank you/donation for new computer packages!

side view picture of manilla envelopes

all those who donated enough to get the single zine and/or thank you note are officially packaged up, addressed and stamped! i will have them all in the mail by friday!
the people who donated enough to get the two zines, thank you note and/or special gifts–i will start making the new zine within the week. i am shooting to get the zine completed and printed off within two weeks, and i’m aiming to get all your packages in the mail before september 1rst!

I’m really looking forward to making this zine, i’ve had plans for it for a while. I hope to document it in someway online–we’ll see how that goes!


i don’t know when it happened. but somehow somewhere in “social justice blogland,” the whole point of blogging became “calling people out” rather than having conversations and engaging people. the whole point became look for bad words, and jab them over and over again–rather than i see your point of view, but i disagree. or, let me share my perspective with you.

more and more reasons are found for justifying that shit. when people jumped all over mai’a–it was justified because she should’ve been more clear. we don’t know her whole story or where she’s coming from. she shouldn’t have assumed that we did. this isn’t her personal blog.

but then on my personal blog–where i apparently have the right to assume that people know my history and that i don’t have to explain over and over and over again: listen. feminism did this to me. feminism did that to me. i’ve been really hurt by feminism. i know other women who have been really hurt by feminism. and now in that context, let me go into great detail explaining my words–*then* i’m told that i shouldn’t have had it in a public space at *all*. that making posts private is an option and if I didn’t want to “be called out” then i should’ve made my post private. because it’s not up to readers to know every single instance of everything that ever happened in my past.

Thank you, ontd feminism, for making the post private or taking it down or whatever you did. I appreciate it, for whatever reason you did it.

I am not directing my critique at ontd feminism. because as angry, as gut twisting angry as i am/was–for whatever reason, they turned off the attack. and I want to acknowledge that and respect that, even if they are hiding behind a post somewhere continuing on.

because ontd feminism did nothing new. this is the way of the internet now. the old internet that i first started in, where you met people in comments and got to know them and learned their histories and formed community with them–that seems to be gone. and in it’s place is this thing where “calling out” is it. “Calling out” is it. Everybody from Shirly Sherrod down to the single blogger with 14 readers has experienced it.

I know I’ve had my part in shaping blogland to be this way. the majority of time on my other blog was spent ‘calling people out.’–only i dont think for me it was ‘people’ so much as it was ‘feminism.’ but that’s what i did. that’s what we all did. and now here we sit. we’ve created a monster. i came to a radical point of view, because i was given the gift of space. because i sat in a room with 20 other students and we talked and talked and talked–and those talks continued to the next semester because we all signed up for another class with the same professor. and i said stuff that i still regret to this day. but i’ve actually continued activist work with many many of those people. because we all started from our own personal spaces, we all got to know each other, and we all witnessed, every single semester, how impermanent knowledge truly is.

if i came to activsim through blogging–i’d take a peek a move right on.

there is power to destroy in relentless critique. because that’s what “calling out” is–is critique taken down to it’s shallowest form, with a heavy dose of snark added in. theorists who crafted the idea of “deconstruction” knew that there was power to destroy, and warned against using deconstruction in such a manner.

my hope is, if we’re going to destroy something, we destroy “calling out.” we analyze it, deconstruct it, critique it, until our laser sharp gaze destroys it. and then we invent something new.


this is what makes me mad. enraged. i am taken out of context of the entirety of writing i do at this blog. and then people start talking to me about “being triggered.” and privileging their experiences of abuse over mine. their “trigger” over mine.

i am a fucking survivor. this has been the first time in my entire life i’ve ever had the words or the ability or the space or the safety to think through and work through abuse that happened to me. it is the first time in my life i’ve ever had other women share experiences with me, say, yeah, me too.

it is not flouncing for me to take things down (as feminists have labled it). it is me protecting myself. and the women who shared things with me. people who have been reading me for a long time, and know where i am coming from. who aren’t trying to win a point, but are saying things for the first time too. and that doesn’t get to be “called out.”

and i know how things go. this post will be pulled to bits and pieces too. fine. I can handle that. Go for it. i can’t handle the other posts being subjected to feminist “calling out.” because the other posts were not about “being right” or “defining experiences for all women everywhere.” there were about making some space for myself to exist as a survivor.

i still think fuck you.
but whatever.
we’ll all get over it.


VIDEO: Eminem and Rihanna sing Love the Way it Burns–a song about domestic violence.

Of course, Eminem being from Detroit, I had to at least mention this song/video. I hope that teh feminists slow down and really think through how they interpret this video and what sort of a reception they give to it. For everything that is deeply fucked up about Eminem–this is still one of the more realistic interpretations of violence in the home I have seen. I don’t even know if I can call it domestic violence. At least not how mainstream feminist/antiDV groups have defined domestic violence. This is the sort of fighting most women I knew (including myself) were a part of. The women I knew, including myself, explicitly refused “domestic violence” or didn’t recognize what they were living in as domestic violence–because they fought back. Because they egged on and got some really good hits in. They didn’t think they deserved the violence, they didn’t think they were victims–they didn’t sit on the stairs and cry with the swollen lip like in the public service announcements. They fought back. Or even started it. So it wasn’t domestic violence. Or, it wasn’t what they’d been *told* was domestic violence.

This is not to belittle women who don’t fight back. Or who are terrorized and violated in a way that mimics traditional understandings of domestic violence.

It is to say–so many women I know (probably most) will see themselves in this video. See the violence they lived through in this video.
And so I hope that feminists are really fucking smart about how they critique it.

and maybe someday when I feel up to it, i’ll get around to doing my own analysis of the video.


Renee at Womanist Musings is holding a fundraiser to help pay for the burial expenses of a family member–please help out if you can!

His name was Jesse James Cox and he was known as the gentle giant. He was 6’5 240 lbs. He was much loved by his mother, father, two brothers and extended family. Jesse always had time for everyone and a bear hug for everyone that needed it. As a family, we are absolutely devastated by his loss and this is magnified by the fact that we are unable to pay for his funeral. At the side bar you will find a donation box which I have placed to ask for help. I know that I am asking for a lot of money, but even a five dollar donation will go far to help ease the burden of funeral expenses on the family. Please if you can help us, it would be so gratefully appreciated by his mother, father and every single member of his family.


It was really interesting watching this video from Democracy Now detailing the experiences of Emily Henochowicz–she is an Israeli citizen whose father was born in Israel and whose grandparents were Holocaust survivors. She was doing a study abroad in Israel and attended a protest in support of Palestinian peoples/flotilla (remember earlier in the year?) and got shot in the eye by a tear gas canister. She lost her eye.

It was interesting to compare Emily’s story to this post by Wheel Chair Dancer about the recent photo on Newsweek of the girl in Afghanistan that was brutally attacked and had her nose and ears cut off by her husband.

In both cases, neither girl was directly a part of any war–and yet they were both connected to war, both girls faces were altered by violence, both girls became disabled through violence inflicted on them and in both cases–there seems to be a battle ground existing around their bodies, even in their bodies.

What would happen to the women if we left Afghanistan?
Who has a right to protest violence committed by the nation/state?

Each woman has gotten much different reactions to their disabilities. And each woman has reacted differently. While Emily has refused cosmetic surgery and instead opted to decorate her glasses or wear her hair over her eye–Aisha (from Afghanistan), has chosen surgery. And while Aisha is getting her surgery funded (i.e. for free), Israel has refused to pay for any part of Emily’s costs.

Aisha had to undergo a literal disrobing (she covers) to have her story told–whereas Emily sat on Democracy Now! with her hair over her eye–her eye protected from viewing, even as the darkness of her hair brought attention to her face.

When you look at how Aisha is represented–in the video that WCD links to, Aisha’s upper face is shown and accentuated in the first few clips of the video. *As if she were wearing her veil.* The image reminded me of the thousands of images I’ve seen since childhood that show the eyes of veiled women–suggestive, full of promise, mysterious, unknowable. Exotic.

And then the veil is gone. And the mysterious unknowable is revealed as brutalized and violated. Since we didn’t know what could be under there before (because as a culture, we don’t know the “other”, we aren’t familiar with her, we aren’t friends with her, she isn’t our sister or cousin), what we find goes against our expectations, shocks us, scares us. We want the beauty. And so we are outraged.

A feeling that stands in stark contrast to how we as viewers understand Emily’s injuries. Usually their narratives are the other way around. An abused woman is blamed, why did you stay with him? And a politically active woman is congratulated as fierce and mighty. Suddenly our consciousness is declaring the abuse victim “beautiful” and “strong” and we want to help–and the politically active woman is understood as a troublemaker. As somebody who maybe shouldn’t have been where she was. It’s sorta her own fault for showing up someplace where she knew there would be trouble. Right?

Does it make sense, given that cultural understanding of Emily’s story, given the way she has worked to redefine her disability, that we are less inclined to view her disability as tragic? As horrific? That we are less inclined to empathize with her, and want to help her?

Aisha’s story very easily fits into how we understand disability in the US–the nobel tragic victim that keeps going in spite of it all. The crippled person who doesn’t want to live like that. We wouldn’t want to live like that *either*. We understand and want to help. I sit not one iota of judgement on Aisha for wanting the surgery. I would want it too. What she wants is not really my point. It’s what we want *for her* that is my point. She *may* want surgery (i say may because her own feelings are really discussed in any great detail) because the surgery helps to hide the way “shame” was violently written on her body. Because first and foremost, that violence was done to shame. But our cultural narratives only let us *see* that she was probably beautiful and now she’s not. Let us help make you beautiful again.

With Emily–our culutral narratives see a woman that is in control. A woman who made choices. And continues making them. And so she is in control and so we don’t feel the same disabled “poor crippled girl” feeling when we hear about her. But I have to wonder how much of the way we look at Emily is due to the fact that the people she is standing in support of are also considered “in control.” Are viewed as making subhuman choices (like randomly deciding to become a suicide bomber) that creates *real* victims. Just as they are threats, so is she. And just like we as a nation/state hide and ignore and refuse to see very real violence inflicted on “the terrorists,” we are also refusing to see that there is nothing chosen about being assaulted by a nation/state. And that “it’s your own fault” logic being put forward by any nation/state is just as violent, just as much about *shaming* as individual men cutting a woman’s face is.

This is what happens to “good” Jewish girls that make bad fucking choices.
Let that be a lesson learned to all of you.

disability as a way to shame, disability as a way to “feel sorry for,” disability as a way to hide and cloak violence; this is what happens…there is no way to change it…you don’t want to be that, do you?

Disability as a threat–how do we confront that reality?
And how do we look at the faces of two different women–of all women–and see complication, nuance, interesting details, humanity–rather than women who deserved it or didn’t?


BY LISA

I LOVE this thread about what cheesy songs, movies, shows, quotes, words inspire you or influence your politics.

I don’t know why I embraced it so fully.  Maybe it’s because there’s a certain piece of me that is so damn UNSERIOUS. The part of me that giggles nonstop at inappropriate jokes, jiggles in front of the mirror while making faces, and does karate kicks to the TV when I’m pissed.

The cheesy activist is the part of me that gets choked up at overdone 80s movies or when I hear the violin.  These are the parts of me that I think, err KNOW, that will never make it in the uber serious world of activism and fight.  The severity of the things us radicals deal with are often anything but funny.

Which makes the cheesiness all that more important to me.  Humor, undoubtedly, for me, is essential to my self-care.  As a mother.  As a writer.  As a thinker.  Mover.  Activist.  Feeler.  Teacher.  Partner.  Lover.  Learner.  Reader.  Humor, undoubtedly, saves me.

I once heard that how hard one laughs is proportionate to how much stress one has built up inside.  The more you have churning deep within, the louder your guffaw gets.  Well, if that’s the truth, it makes total sense that I nearly blast the eardrums open of whomever company I am around when I get laughing.  There are times when I’ve been on the phone and someone has thought I’ve hung up because I’m doing the silent laughter — you know, the kind where your mouth is wide open like a fly trap, and nothing’s coming out – not even air – because someone said something so damn funny.

[I'm thinking specifically of a time when I was on the phone with Bfp and I was explaining the crazy ass comment of a troll on my blog and she sputtered, "WHAT A FUCKSTAIN!"  which sent me into a 10 minute fly trap episode.]

My point is that who we are as PEOPLE should be embraced as who we identify with as activists and I’m so grateful for space – any space – that invites the silly, the cheese, the tiny little morsels of funny and sentimental that keep us going.

And to prove just how full my medicine cabinet gets of eye-rolling, cheese balm….

I’d bawl BAWL bawl my eyes out when I thought about the world going to hell in a handbasket and then I’d listen to this song.  Note: I didn’t even see The Hunchback, I just felt my heart open when I listened to the lyrics and have loved it ever since.

CLICK BELOW FOR THE LINK
SOMEDAY
LYRICS
Someday when we are wiser,
When the world’s older,
When we have learned.
I pray someday we may yet live to live and let live.

Someday life will be fairer,
Need will be rarer
Greed will not pay.
God speed this bright millennium on its way.
Let it come someday.

Someday our fight will be won then,
We’ll stand in the sun then,
That bright afternoon.

Till then, on days when the sun is gone,
We’ll hang on,
Wish upon the moon.

There are some days dark and bitter
Seems we haven’t got a prayer
But a prayer for something better
Is the one thing we all share

Someday
When we are wiser,
When the world’s older,
When we have learned.
I pray
Someday we may yet live
To live and let live

Someday
Life will be fairer,
Need will be rarer
Greed will not pay.
God speed
his bright millennium
On its way.
Let it come
If we wish upon the moon
One day
Someday soon

One day
Someday soon


from frequent FFJ blogger, Lisa!

Call For Submission

Dear Sister is an anthology of letters and other works created for survivors of sexual violence from other survivors and allies. It is a collection of hope and strength through words and art.

The pathway for a survivor of rape and sexual violence is an unlit road of pain, isolation, and doubt. In the weeks, months, and oftentimes, years following, the healing process can be difficult to navigate without a community surrounding her. Imagine a compilation of literary arms bound together to offer words of understanding, solidarity, and love. Dear Sister is an accessible and inclusive offering of hope, voice, and courage for women, women-identified, female or female-identified, or those who do not identifiy with gender. It seeks writers and artists who wish to light a piece of that road and lift up others in her healing.

It is an impossible task to write a letter to every survivor of rape, to every person who lives with an invisible scar. Instead of thinking of the face of the person you are writing to, reflect on the image of an unlit path, a road with no clear footing. Your offering will be one light, among many, to make visible what was previously unseen, to illuminate what was hidden. You are providing a few more steps for someone to walk steadily toward their own recovery. Your words can be an anchor, a meditation, a prayer, a strong embrace or a gentle touch. The purpose of this anthology is not to retell stories of assault, but to help others regain a sense of balance and wholeness.

Mindfully move beyond what is commonly said and reflect upon radical companionship. Write what you wish for her to know and never forget. And if you lose focus, look deep into a mirror and reflect: What would you want to be told if you were in the darkness?

Information

Dear Sister primarily seeks letters but will accept poems, prose, essay, and drawn art that can be scanned for entry. Maximum word count is 1000.

Deadline for submission is November 1, 2010.

Individuals of any race, creed, background, citizenship or non-citizen, ability, and identity are encouraged to submit their words and work to uplift others in the healing stages of post trauma and violence. Both English and Spanish are accepted. All questions can be directed to dearsisteranthology@gmail.com

Submission can be emailed as an attachment with “Dear Sister Entry” in the subject to dearsisteranthology@gmail.com.

Hand written letters can addressed and mailed to:

Dear Sister Anthology

P.O. Box 202468

Cleveland, Oh 44120

Note from the Editor

Rape and sexual violence thrive in the silence of our homes and communities. Outreach must be wide and intentional if we are seek to hear from those who are silenced. Please forward this to as many individuals, groups, organizations, listserves, websites, and agencies that come to mind.