tradition

Whom Not to Marry: Time-Tested Advice from a Higher Authority

admin — Sun, 27 Jun 2010 16:01:00 +0000

After reading Whom Not to Marry by Father Pat Connor, a Catholic priest, I contemplated the different ways to approach this review. I could discuss the practical aspects of this book, but Maureen Dowd already addressed this in a July 6, 2008 op-ed in the New York Times. I could parody Whom Not to Marry, but Father Connor seems so earnest and well-meaning I couldn’t mock him in good conscience (and I’m not even Catholic). I could take a liberal stance and point out that this book is heteronormative, patriarchal, and antiquated. However, I’m much less offended by this instruction manual than I am by Ellen Fein and Sherrie Schneider’s The Rules: Time-Tested Secrets for Capturing the Heart of Mr. Right. Connor at least encourages women to find someone who treats them with respect and kindness, rather than giving lessons on how to seduce men by playing hard to get.

Whom Not to Marry is based on Connor’s lecture that he shares with audiences of young women. He structures the book around 1 Corinthians 13:4-13, from the Bible: “Love is patient, love is kind...” If you’ve ever attended an American or Christian wedding, you’ve certainly heard this read, usually by a relative. I don’t want to be dismissive and say this is cliched, but Connor is certainly not introducing a new idea. Not to mention the fact that as a Catholic priest Connor has never been married himself, but gleans his experience from premarital counseling and presiding over ceremonies.

Full disclosure: I’m married and believe everyone should have the right to marry. At the same time, I respect that there are many people opposed to the institution of marriage. To enter into marriage should be an individual choice. This is the fundamental weakness of Whom Not to Marry. It assumes every woman wants to marry a man.

Another weakness of the book is that Connor does not criticize the institution of marriage, or at least the wedding industry in the U.S. I would never expect him to violate the tenets of his religion, but the book doesn’t account for social context. In many ways this book is ahistorical, and attributes failed marriages to women’s bad judgment, rather than considering the social pressure to marry quickly, traditionally, and with spectacle.

I don’t think I would actually recommend Father Connor’s Whom Not to Marry to anyone that I know. It’s very reminiscent of Good Housekeeping relationship advice columns that my grandmother may have clipped. Sweet and with the best intentions, but predictable and naïve.

Written by: Claire Burrows, June 27th 2010

MILK (5/1/2010)

admin — Wed, 05 May 2010 08:00:00 +0000

HERE Arts Center

New York, New York

Emily DeVoti’s provocative two-act play, MILK, opens in a spare farmhouse kitchen. It’s 1984. Ronald Reagan has just been elected US president and local newscasters seem to have nothing good to report. Meg (played by Jordan Baker), a former mathematician who loves precision and order, and her husband Ben (Jon Krupp), a former investigative reporter, are sitting at the table and talking, but it’s the kind of tense conversation that can quickly turn from controlled anger to fierce argument.

Things are bad, very bad. A drought has made dairy production virtually impossible, and land that’s been in Meg’s family for centuries is now on the cusp of foreclosure. On top of this, their college-aged daughter—who is never seen but is referenced at key moments in the play—wants to be an actress and their fourteen-year-old son Matt (Noah Robbins) wants material things his parents cannot possibly afford: name-brand sneakers, CDs, a bedside color TV, and stylish clothes, among them. Worse, there’s a city slicker on the prowl, and he’s made no bones about wanting to “help” Meg and Ben ease their financial woes. Ben thinks it’s good idea, "a gift from God"; Meg doesn’t.

Ben wins.

By the time businessman James (Peter Bradbury) and his teenaged daughter, Veronica (Anna Kull), arrive on the scene—in a private plane, no less—things have deteriorated even further. But James couldn't care less about the family’s personal difficulties. Instead, he’s turning his managerial acumen to improving the farm’s productivity. Although he knows nothing about cows, he hatches a plan that, on paper, will foster unprecedented growth and save the day: importing “wild, hairy, horned” bulls to impregnate the many heifers dotting the pastoral landscape.

As you have probably guessed, things don’t pan out as James—or Ben or a reluctant Meg—expect. While the second act of the play is far weaker than the first, the excellent cast, including Caroline Baeumler as Auroch, a talking bovine the Program Notes describe as “quite possibly the last living wild cow,” briefly explore a number of evocative themes including monetary pressures; urban versus rural lifestyles; marital fidelity; self-sacrifice; coming of age; and the festering ache that often accompanies keeping silent about things that matter.

In fact, by the time Veronica tearfully confides her father’s secrets to Matt, the pathos is so intense that James instantly morphs into someone less repugnant. In the end, while we may revile Matt politically, DeVoti renders him a multidimensional personality who is deserving of compassion.

There are no easy answers in MILK. Indeed, as the world changes, some customs and practices inevitably become obsolete and are replaced by newer rituals and activities. The key is figuring out which pieces of cultural and personal history to retain and which to let go.

At one point, Meg looks into a bucket of unpasteurized milk and declares that “the pure stuff, it corrupts so easily.” Maybe so. MILK asks its viewers to think about what’s negotiable and what isn’t. Regardless of what is ultimately decided, one thing is certain: after watching this well-executed play, urban audiences will think about cows in a whole new way.

Photo credit: Jim Baldassare

Written by: Eleanor J. Bader, May 5th 2010

Chöd Practice in the Bön Tradition

admin — Fri, 08 Jan 2010 17:01:00 +0000

By Alejandro Chaoul

Snow Lion Publications

In Chöd Practice in the Bön Tradition, author Alejandro Chaoul presents a scholarly overview of a form of meditative practice that is little known in the Western world. It is called chöd, a term that translates to “cutting.” Chaoul’s presentation studies chöd in the context of the Tibetan Bön tradition and differentiates it from the practice of chöd in the Buddhist tradition.

While Chaoul offers a valuable text on what is a rarely studied ancient tradition, readers should be forewarned that although this is a slim book, it is not a light read. The subject matter is fascinating, however, due to what may appear to some as an extreme type of meditation. The purpose of performing chöd, according to Chaoul, is to cut through the practitioner’s ego as a step toward achieving enlightenment or buddhahood. Chöd is considerably different from our typical view of meditation. Simply put, this type of meditation is performed in such a way that it induces fear in the practitioner so that he or she may “sever” or see through their fear.

To practice chöd, a person usually meditates at night in a frightening place, such as a cemetery or charnel ground. The practitioner performs music with traditional instruments that historically have been constructed with human bones. The drum, for example, is ideally made of two human skulls, one of a 16-year-old male and one of a 16-year-old female. Chaoul writes that it is best if the skulls come from children who have passed away in accidents and not from sickness. During the meditation, the practitioners are to envision their bodies being cut up and served to various demons.

The desired result of the chöd practice is to transcend human ignorance, which has placed us within samsāra (“a cycle of birth, sickness, aging, death and rebirth”). Chaoul writes that chöd is “considered to be a powerful method to liberate one from this cycle.” Not only does this practice offer insight but it’s also a lesson in the ultimate act of generosity: the offering of the practitioner’s physical body. It’s these two attributes (generosity and insight) that Chaoul states are “the two main ingredients in developing the mind of enlightenment.”

In Chöd Practice in the Bön Tradition, Chaoul gives an overview of the history of chöd, discusses ancient related texts, and explains how it is practiced. Chaoul also touches briefly on what he calls “the representations of the female aspects of reality” in chöd. In this tradition, “when one is freed from one’s body, one returns to the oneness of the great womb.” Unfortunately, as interesting as further explanation on this would be, Chaoul admits but does not go into reasons why he was unable to include additional discussion on how practitioners view the feminine as it relates to chöd.

Written by: Beverly Jenkins-Crockett, January 8th 2010

Three Sisters

admin — Tue, 12 May 2009 17:10:00 +0000

Television Trust for the Environment

Bullfrog Films

Three Sisters is part of the Life Series collection which is funded by BBC World and TVE International. The episodes are meant for classroom use from grades seven to twelve, or even college age. This particular episode focuses on the women of Eritrea, a small country near Ethiopia, Sudan, and Somalia. After fighting alongside men in a fifty-year war for their country's independence from Ethiopia, Eritrean women also won their personal independence. The Life Series follows Belainesh, a member of the Women's Union who is doing community outreach and eduction in the rural parts of Eritrea. She meets three women who are sisters, each battling against a different tradition.

The first sister we are introduced to is Leyla, who is trying to decide whether to circumcise her youngest daughter, even though she knows the methods used are not entirely safe. Female circumcision is performed because it is believed that if a girl is not circumcised, she will not become a true woman. There are many risks to being circumcised because it is done at a young age (under one year old) and is often performed by an elder of the tribe, who may not have full seeing abilities. The wrong area being cut could lead to infection, or even death.

Another woman, Amena, is thirty-five years old and has given birth to all six of her children at her home with no problems. Amena is pregnant again, but now has the option of giving birth at a midwife's clinic, something that was not previously available to her.

The last woman, Howa, is twenty-nine and has four children. She has an opportunity to receive land from the government, but is debating whether she should plow the land herself, given that women are not traditionally allowed to plow.

Belainesh interacts with each of these women in this episode, and informs them of the risks they face if they follow their Eritrean traditions. Belainesh believes Leyla will most likely not circumsize her daughter and Howa will eventually plow her own land, but Amena is still unsure if she is willing to break tradition and give birth outside of her home. The women know that they will eventually take steps toward different life choices, but breaking ties with tradition is a slow and complicated process.

Written by: Chrissie Thornburg, May 12th 2009

The Last Empress

admin — Tue, 01 May 2007 12:41:00 +0000

By Anchee Min

Bloomsbury Press

An ancient sage once foretold, “China would be destroyed by a woman.” Historians described Empress Tzu Hsi of the Qing Dynasty as an evil leader hell-bent on the usurpation of power. This much-documented image later served to affirm the age-old prophecy. The Last Empress by Anchee Min is the sequel to the acclaimed _Empress Orchid _(2004). Set towards the end of Imperial China, Min continues the heartbreaking tale of the country’s downfall at the hands of merciless foreigners. Tzu Hsi or Orchid, as she is previously called, first enters the Forbidden City as a concubine then reluctantly but out of necessity gains control of the throne after the Emperor’s premature death.

Contrary to history’s cruel depiction of China’s central female figure, Min successfully weaves a portrait of a woman whose love is bountiful as a mother and a ruler. The Empress portrayed in Min’s novel is truly human and is liberated from her profound demonization.

Adhering to strict traditional codes, Orchid remains a life-long widow. Prohibited to enter another relationship, her objective becomes to raise her son Tung Chih as Successor. The story not only illustrates female oppression, but also demonstrates the brutal treatment of eunuchs—the palace servants who are castrated from an early age to ensure that concubines and wives produce the Emperor’s “seeds” alone. No one is to be trusted inside the Forbidden City. Bribery and betrayal is common amongst the eunuchs and the threat to Orchid’s survival is often.

Steeped in tragedy the author crafts a fictional account of the Empress’s private character and life, challenging the prevalent conception of her as a bloodthirsty monster and thereby restoring a sense of her dignity. Rather than causing the empire to crumble, as is history’s assumption, Orchid tries desperately hard to maintain order despite outside invasions and internal rivalry. Through her strong will, wisdom and self-sacrifice, she single-handedly holds the dynasty together by its remaining threads.

Told through first-person, the narrative is written in beautiful prose bordering on the poetic. It provides an insight into late 19th and early 20th century Chinese culture and politics and unearths a deep power struggle between the sexes and, indeed, against Western Civilisation.

Engaging and intriguing, The Last Empress has the feel of a memoir. Lovers of Memoirs of a Geisha would relish this rich historical fiction that will make you think twice about accepting the male view of history as truth.

Written by: Payal Patel, May 1st 2007