violence against women

Un/common Cultures: Racism and the Rearticulation of Cultural Difference

annette — Tue, 12 Oct 2010 00:00:00 +0000

In a book about race, class and cultural differences, the author argues that a global common culture focused on human rights may be emerging. Proving an excellent example of the gulf between academics and activists, research and experience, the book’s reader strains through reams of multi-syllable words, only to confront a mass of contradictions and confusions, statements unsupported by facts or logic, and conclusions that are unfair or just plain wrong.

The author analyzes race and caste and claims that we are reminded daily that we live in a post-racial world. That’s not the world I live in. The election of President Obama has increased, not decreased, expressions of racism. The author claims violence against women is invisible in the United States. It’s everywhere I look. She compares race, caste and class and questions whether race is biological, social, or even exists as science proves.

Her critique of what she calls feminist universalism focuses on refugee/asylum law. But she fails to acknowledge that in a patriarchal state no law, no matter how well written or intended, will remain untainted. She also fails to take into account the ever present tension for activist lawyers–making a political point or representing your client. The client always comes first.

While true that human rights standards are often not applied to the United States, especially under the criminal administration of George Bush, much has changed since that time. Two cases about family violence are at the Inter-American Commission on Human Rights (Gonzales v. U.S. and Dombrowski v. U.S.) and four countries have now protected American women from the failures of the United States under the Hague Convention. Hillary Clinton recently announced that the U.S. will hold itself to the same standards it holds other countries in its annual Trafficking in Persons report. This is a major and important shift in policy.

When talking about Gender Based Violence (GBV), the author misses the fundamental analysis of GBV as about power and control. She says, “It is thus important to understand domestic violence as part of the structural violence wrought by liberalization and structural adjustment policies.” Domestic violence is no more caused by structural adjustment policies than it is caused by poverty or unemployment, alcoholism or anger. The fundamental cause, known for decades, is imbalance of power-also the backbone of structural adjustment policies. They both spring from the same well–abuse of power–the operating system of patriarchy.

Repeatedly the author fails to acknowledge the shoulders upon which she stands. She claims that feminists don’t understand that GBV is about state policy as much as about culture. On the contrary, the history of the battered women’s movement shows that it originally focused on the failure of state policy by suing the police for not enforcing the law, forcing prosecutors to charge abusers, and changing laws to hold the government accountable. T-shirt politics confirms how aware feminists are that domestic violence is intertwined with world peace—If you can’t have peace in the home, how can you have peace in the world?

Visweswaran wonders what it would mean to speak of a culture of violence against women in the United States and to understand domestic violence in the United States as a human rights issue. Advocates working in the battered women’s movement have spoken of it and understood it for decades.

The last chapter in Un/common Cultures contradicts earlier ones by showing that there is, in fact, a growing global human rights movement. But she fails to do her homework and thinks that university students urging divestment in countries that violate human rights is a new tactic. That was a common practice against apartheid in South Africa in the 1970s. What’s new is technology that tells the world in minutes if a coup or revolution is occurring, so that actions can be supported from half a globe away. Her final conclusion seems a simple truism about social movements and left this reader wondering why she slogged through 225 pages for that.

Written by: Dianne Post, October 11th 2010

Broken Glass Park

caitlin — Tue, 28 Sep 2010 08:00:00 +0000

By Alina Bronsky

Europa Editions

Broken Glass Park is the tough story of a young girl whose upbringing and current life situation is hard, to say the least. After a former abusive boyfriend murders her mother, Sascha has to take care of her younger siblings with the help of a guardian she doesn’t particularly respect. From her point of view, we’re taken through her grieving, her distrust and hatred of men, her failing schoolwork, and her experience as an immigrant. There is a lot going on in this novel, and sometimes I did wish that it would focus a bit more. Then again, this is also what made it such a fascinating read.

Sascha finds herself in strange situations, and many would probably categorize her as self-destructive. She befriends a newspaper editor who feels bad enough about her mother’s death that he offers to help in any way he can. Suddenly, she’s staying with him and his son, and caught up in her own weird love triangle.

Even though this serves as the main plot, there are other things that happen to her throughout that are also strange and somewhat unbelievable. I don’t want to give too much away, but I will say that some of these are created by her rather than things that simply happen around her. In that way, I understand why some people feel that her character is unsympathetic, but I think they don’t fully appreciate how deeply she is affected by everything going on around her that she doesn’t have control over.

The story is surprisingly violent, and there is one scene in particular where it almost feels gratuitous. But the violence works because it is authentic and symbolizes the turmoil that Sascha is going through. In some ways, the story reminded me a bit of Stieg Larsson’s Millenium series. It is not nearly as violent and doesn't tell the same story, but the female protagonist in both struggles with issues of trust, violence against women, and being an outcast. In that sense, I came away from Broken Glass Park with the same feeling of sympathy and empowerment that I felt after reading The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo.

The story may not be completely original, but it still captivated me and held my attention so closely that I read it in a day. As is often the sign of how much I enjoy a book, my biggest complaint was that it was too short. Just as I was hoping that Sascha’s life would take a turn for the better and that she would reclaim it for herself, the book was over. I can only hope that the author revisits this girl’s story so that I can get wrapped up in it all over again.

Written by: frau sally benz, September 28th 2010

Terrorizing Women: Feminicide in the Américas

mandy — Sat, 11 Sep 2010 18:00:00 +0000

Edited by Cynthia Bejaranos, Rosa-Linda Fregoso

Duke University Press

Terrorizing Women is a collection of papers written on the subject of feminicidio (feminicide), a term Marcela Lagarde y de los Rios used to identify the genocide of women when conditions exist “that allow for violent attempts against the integrity, health, liberties, and lives of girls and women.” As such, feminicide is an extreme form of gendered violence that involves the violation of women's and girls' human rights, is a threat to their safety, endangers their lives, and culminates in their murder.

Ciudad Juarez, probably the world’s best known city with an unimaginable rate of feminicide, has seen the murder of more than 600 women and girls and the disappearance of at least 1,000 more in time frame spanning less than two decades. Although there are many factors that allow for such a high rate of feminicide to continue undeterred in a border space such as Cuidad Juarez, feminicide is a widespread occurrence beyond Mexico, reaching into all of the Americas, with many different roots, but with similar factors underlying the opportunity for, and the impunity with which such violations of human rights continue to occur.

Terrorizing Women is divided into three parts, each part starting with a personal testimony of Mexican and Guatemalan women directly affected by an act of feminicide. These testimonies offer a glimpse into the terrifying and painful experiences the survivors of victims of feminicide have to endure.

“Localizing Feminicide” focuses on the location, or territories, where feminicides are rampant—including countries such as Mexico, Costa Rica and Guatemala and cities such as Ciudad Juarez and Mar del Plata—and the social and historical reasons behind the feminicides. “Transnationalizing Justice” exposes some of the reasons into why feminicide has been allowed to continue, with no end in sight, by exploring the roles of governments, NGOs, economics, accountability and justice systems with a focus on Ciudad Juarez. Part Two concludes with a photo essay, “Images from the Justice Movement in Chihuahua, Mexico.” “New Citizenship Practices” explores the role of poor migrant women’s citizenship and human rights in the border space; the role and limitations of the term feminicidio; the uses of the term in Peru, Guatemala, and Mexico; the paradox of the Ni Una Más (Not One More) campaign of Northern Mexico; and the symbolic leaders of the movement, the Mujeres de Negro (Women Dressed in Black).

Terrorizing Women is an eye-opening examination of the staggering numbers of feminicides occurring near the border between the U.S. and Mexico, and throughout Latin America, an exploration into the motivation behind the killings and the reasons for the impunity received by criminals, and an insight into the strength, courage and determination of the surviving relatives of those who disappeared, to continue the fight for justice.

Written by: Nilki Benitez, September 11th 2010

Violence Against Latina Immigrants: Citizenship, Inequality, and Community

admin — Fri, 06 Aug 2010 22:31:00 +0000

By Roberta Villalón

NYU Press

I generally do not start reviews with blanket statements, but I simply cannot say enough positive comments about this book. As a student of Gender & Sexuality studies, as well as community activism and Hispanic studies, I was greatly interested and inspired by this thoughtful, critical, theory-meets-activism approach to the difficult and devastating reality of violence against Latina immigrants.

The author, Roberta Villalón, is a professor of Sociology at St. John’s University in New York City, where she is active with both the Committee for Latin American and Caribbean studies and the Women and Gender Studies Program. According to her author biography, Villalón was inspired by the corrupt, and often deadly, political regime of her childhood in Argentina, and has since dedicated her professional career to studying the harms and realities of inequality on multiple levels from institutionalized corruption to domestic abuse. With her academic grounding in political science, international relations, and sociology, as well as her Latin American/Latina focus and affiliation with various immigrants and women’s rights organizations, Villalón brings a fresh, critical perspective to the discussions of resistance in social movements, particularly activist feminist grassroots discourse and efforts.

In Violence Against Latina Immigrants: Citizenship, Inequality, and Community, Villalón’s writing/research process was mainly based on her work on the ground as an activist researcher with a legal nonprofit organization that offers free services to individuals who have suffered from domestic abuse. The clients were typically female, undocumented immigrants, a population she notes as particularly vulnerable to violence: domestic, structural, cultural, and symbolic. In her book Violence Against Latina Immigrants, Villalón combines her observations and struggles with individual clients and their processes with the complicated bureaucracy of our national immigration system, with personal interviews with staff. Even though well intentioned, the staff and general organization were often limited by funding and legal restrictions. They were therefore, as Villalón claims, forced to work within and, unfortunately often perpetuated, the oppressive cycles and systems of structural inequality, specifically in their construction of ‘good’ and ‘bad’ clients. Although the organization started from a radical, revolutionary grassroots project, many of the employees seem to be jaded, and accepted the limitations, an unfortunate although (arguably) sometimes necessary common ideological shift for non-profits when the practical issues such as funding, staff, and helping people in the immediate present are realistically addressed.

Villalón notes these frustrating contradictions and dilemmas that further the cycle and reproduction of inequality, and calls for more advocacy, networking between community organizations and policy changes that would aid this particularly vulnerable population. She calls for people, especially those with the desire and power to change policy, to “focus on the ways in which (these women) experience exploitation, marginalization, powerlessness, cultural imperialism and violence” in order to make the “invisible, visible," while also avoiding the equally oppressive victimization narrative that would further deny their agency.

Overall, the text proves to be a critical study into the complex intersection between immigration, citizenship and violence, particularly in regards to race, gender, heterosexuality, and nationality, and I would recommend to all interested in women’s, immigrant, Hispanic, or general sociopolitical studies.

Written by: Abigail Chance, August 6th 2010

Reclaiming the F Word: The New Feminist Movement

admin — Wed, 28 Jul 2010 23:59:00 +0000

By Catherine Redfern, Kristin Aune

Zed Books

What happened to the feminist movement that meant so much to all of us in the 1970s? Is it dead and gone for good? The answer is no, and UK authors Catherine Redfern and Kristin Aune are on a mission to spread the word. “Article after article proclaimed that feminism was dead,” they write, “and stated that young people in particular are uninterested in this once vital movement. This simply didn’t tally with what we had seen through our research and involvement with the feminist community.”

One of the most interesting things that Redfern and Aune do in Reclaiming the F Word is to compare the objectives of the previous movement with the objectives of the current one. According to their research, the demands of the 1970s’ women’s liberation movement were not all that different from our desires today. In chapters devoted to each of the seven issues they deem to be relevant in the past and today, they explore both issues as well as solutions.

For example, “Liberated Bodies” highlights a number of issues, from eating disorders to female genital mutilation to abortion to “jumping off the beauty treadmill.” The “Sexual Freedom and Choice” chapter opens with a discussion of what prevents women from making free choices. This can range from being forced to have sex with her husband to agreeing to an uncomfortable sexual practice in order to maintain a relationship. The authors go on to highlight specific sexual issues that women face today, including sexual double standards, objectification, sex education (or lack thereof), and homophobia. Redfern and Aune also analyze violence against women—including sexual assault, physical abuse, and harassment—and draw attention to the ways in which patriarchal attitudes impact violence, and how violence against prostitutes has its own specific concerns. They offer practical solutions such as organizing public awareness campaigns, better laws, and education programs.

Many of us know all too well that the fight is not over for equal opportunities in the workplace, while working women still struggle with being expected to take on the lion’s share of the housework and child-rearing. A chapter devoted to this issue once again illustrates the strengths of the book: providing statistics and stories from real women to back up claims, and then providing real solutions. Redfern and Aune suggest that expanding women’s career choices, challenging global poverty and working conditions, fighting for pay equality, challenging discrimination at work, and promoting equality in the home will make a huge difference for women. This is not just a book of “feminist complaining;” it is a call to arms against injustice and a blueprint for how to get there.

Chapter five tackles a sticky subject, one that people are not supposed to broach in polite conversation: politics and religion. Today, women are still fighting barriers when it comes to running for office and even getting to the polls. On the religion side, Redfern and Aune offer insight into how women perceive religion as well as how some feminists have tried to account for their faith.

Many feminists believe that sexism is so ingrained into popular culture today that it will require a major overhaul of media in all forms to fix the problem. In a chapter devoted to freeing popular culture from sexism, the authors tackle hip hop and its lyrical messages, sexism in advertising, gender stereotyping, and celebrity culture as it pertains to women like Paris Hilton or Miley Cyrus.

The final demand of feminists today is “Feminism Reclaimed,” as many of the women interviewed by the authors felt that feminism itself needs a revival. The backlash against it, leading many women to fear self-identifying as feminists, is not helpful. Neither is misrepresenting feminism or trying to typecast all feminists.

Reclaiming the F Word provides an excellent overview of all of the issues currently faced by women not only in the UK, but also around the globe. By highlighting the concerns women have today and offering powerful suggestions on how to eradicate sexism, readers feel empowered that they too can change the world.

Written by: April D. Boland, July 28th 2010

The Killer Inside Me

admin — Sat, 12 Jun 2010 16:01:00 +0000

Directed by Michael Winterbottom

IFC Films

The song "He Hit Me (And It Felt Like a Kiss)" sums up all Jim Thompson’s oeuvre. When he wrote his novels (mostly in the '50s) they were rightly regarded as violent misogynist twaddle. It was only after his death that certain misguided critics mistook his nihilistic, bad-day-at-the-abattoir style for art. Thompson’s writing has all the literary merit of pissing your name in snow. Like Mickey Spillane, he saw two kinds of people in the world: bad men and the women who love them. The mistake director Michael Winterbottom makes in his new adaptation of The Killer Inside Me is to believe Thompson’s worldview teaches us anything apart from bad taste.

In a dusty, nowhere little town in Texas, a young sheriff likes to beat women. He was raised to be bad, by his no-good daddy and his paedophile half-brother. Even his babysitter was a sadomasochist. Now, cloaked by his badge of office and spurred-on by legal impunity, he plots the death of a rich boy who manslaughtered his sibling. Since we’re in Jim Thompson-country, he can’t just kill the rich boy, of course. He must kill a few chicks along the way (because he’s bad and women want him, badly). He’s got two women in his life: a good girl and a whore (one girl, if you read Freud). They both worship him enough to inspire hate, and to turn him on to murder.

I shut my eyes when Casey Affleck beat Jessica Alba to death. Even listening for a minute was tough. This scene, which has stirred the critical backlash against the movie, is true to Jim Thompson’s lurid vision, but watching it doesn’t tell us much. In interviews, Michael Winterbottom has argued that ultra-violence is moral, because it’s unattractive to most people. The trouble is: it’s only unattractive to moral people. (Wife-beaters love watching women get punched in the face.) Does Winterbottom think we’re under some illusion about what beating a woman to death looks like? Jim Thompson wasn’t a feminist, for Pete’s sake. He wrote what he wrote because lurid violence sells. His work only seems insightful because psychos have so few thoughts. Pity the man who wants to see women battered.

As the sheriff, Casey Affleck has a coward’s smile. His signature look—like Ben Affleck if he’d killed somebody—is used to good effect here. He’s got eyes that seem to die on people. His voice is permanently curled into his throat, waiting to be kicked. Everything about him is wounded. Unfortunate women think he’s “vulnerable.” Men mistake him for a servant. But both ways of seeing him look like weakness from his point of view. His wounds aren’t there to be healed, or to be used against him. He’s long past that. His wounds are, in fact, the only reminder there is that he was once a child. For him, feelings are what he fakes, the way a hunter baits a trap.

There’s no such complexity to the women’s roles. (The old action movie maxim: “Any woman is superfluous to the plot unless naked or dead” was probably invented by Jim Thompson.) Jessica Alba and Kate Hudson do their best, but their roles are pretty much confined to the bedroom (or the grave). They are the women who’d sing "He Hit Me (And It Felt Like a Kiss)". Every woman in Jim Thompson’s fiction has a taste for male dominance and bloodshed disguised as sex. The only difference between a murder scene and a sex scene for Thompson is that his killers actually enjoy murder. Sex might be hot for these guys, but it’s always foreplay to death.

There is an audience for this kind of thing. In the '50s—hell, for most of human history—men wrote violent misogynist twaddle, and people lapped it up. As in rap lyrics today, there’s a supposed authenticity in boy-on-girl spite. But woman-haters are all liars. And not even interesting liars at that. Misogyny is the thinnest veil for self-doubt. Women are everywhere, after all. How big a man’s fears have to be to encompass an entire sex! (So big they dwarf him.) The makers of The Killer Inside Me know their anti-hero is a personality void, so they accentuate violence, like real misogynists. This can’t hide the littleness of the man, or how empty the movie is.

Cross-posted at Movie Waffle

Written by: James Tatham, June 12th 2010

King Kong Theory: A Manifesto For Women Who Can’t Or Won’t Obey The Rules

admin — Sat, 08 May 2010 16:01:00 +0000

By Virginie Despentes, Stephanie Benson

The Feminist Press

King Kong Theory is most easily my favourite read so far this year; it packs a punch and voices everything I feel about our oppressive patriarchal society. This work is completely free of any hesitation to say what is really going on in the Western world today. Virginie Despentes blew me away with her fresh and honest analysis of what women (and men) struggle within their half-baked, destructive gender roles. She uses research combined with her own gritty experiences to prove her points (of which there are many): silence rots and speaking heals, men exist and women are the negative to the male positive, and what we (both men and women) really feel and need have been smothered by glossy mainstream duct tape.

Yes, this slim tome covers the King Kong story. Despentes points out that the beast has no sex/gender, and is in fact, asexual. He gets along with the beauty, but in the end, he is killed off (nothing but heterosexual relationships here, so bye-bye King Kong!). Poor beauty, like so many other women out there, she is forced to leave the security of King Kong and go back to the dissatisfying and unsafe patriarchal realm.

Currently stuck in a broken system that benefits nobody (do rich white men count?) is angering. I’d forgotten how angry I am that I’m a sole supporting parent (the result of forced sex) without family support (the male predator is always right, so they, like society, stand by him), but King Kong furiously reminded me of how I’ve buried it over the years as yet another maladaptive coping mechanism. Violence against women and children today remains mainly unspoken.

King Kong Theory is not for those in denial or the fainthearted or the apologists; it’s for real men and women who want to change the landscape of power or who simply want to be included, validated as self-actualising individuals with agency. There are many people out there who have been silenced and have similar stories. Unfortunately, as Despentes notes, feminism represents more than just women; it represents a whole system of injustice that rests on gender differences.

This is a book I believe every woman and man should read, even if it means buying, borrowing, or begging for it. If Despentes' provocative films are anything to go by, a prospective reader can expect a powerful polemic that intends to shake up the female and male consciousness, and forces one to recast a blade-sharp view on the continuum of gendered violence permeating in society.

Written by: Nicolette Westfall, May 8th 2010

Yasodharā, the Wife of the Bōdhisattva: The Sinhala Yasodharavata (The Story of Yasodhara) and the Sinhala Yasodharapadanaya (The Sacred Biography of

admin — Thu, 11 Feb 2010 01:00:00 +0000

By Ranjini Obeyesekere

SUNY Press

I approached Ranjini Obeyesekere’s book with slight trepidation: though the subject of Buddhism has always interested me, I was worried about my ability to write about a religion with such a long detailed history that I had only a surface knowledge of. I was well aware from the start that my Christian background would affect my interpretation of this text, and in the end this book did leave me questioning every rose-coloured, perhaps orientalist view I had of Buddhism.

As I suspected, Yasodharā, the Wife of the Bōdhisattva, is not a light read. This book will be really popular with those already familiar with SUNY Press’ challenging and progressive publications, but will probably never touch the trade market. The writing style is heavy on facts and descriptions, and less so on interpretation and theorization. The reader doesn’t get much of a sense of Obeyesekere’s thesis, which is unfortunate as she is such an experienced scholar. But perhaps this was done on purpose, as the book leaves the reader with no choice but to form their own interpretation; and with the fantastical, bizarre story presented in her translations, it is almost impossible not to.

Women in most major religions are delegated to a life of suffering, whether as punishment or reward. Yasodharā’s life is no exception. Born into a rich class, she was married to Siddhartha when she was 16 years old. They were happy until Siddhartha decided to pursue a holy life, two days after the birth of their only child. Yasodharā then lives out her life in pious denial, eventually becoming a nun with superpowers, which would be cool if she allowed to use them. Her story so far was basically what I was expected, similar to the role of the Virgin Mother in Christianity: a life lived in perfect accordance to the rules that is rewarded with silent suffering.

What I was not prepared for was the violence Yasodharā was subjected to. She and Buddha spend countless lives together as partners, and throughout these lives Buddha allowed her to be eaten by animals, gave away her children, sold her, lost her in a bet, and abandoned her in the middle of the night after she gave birth to their child. What is most disturbing is that Buddha’s actions were considered progression through samsara (the human condition) and necessary to achievement enlightenment. As Yasodharā is considered Buddha’s property, giving her away or letting her be taken was an act of charity. The fact that Yasodharā puts up with this abuse in each life proves she is an ideal wife and will eventually reach nirvana.

Obeyesekere’s text is straight-forward historical reference; however, I found myself often making connections between Yasodharā’s story and the way our culture still perceives violence against women. Viewed from a feminist perspective, a reader of Yasodharā’s story can’t help but wonder if she should have been the Buddha. While Siddhartha may have lived an ascetic life of charity and poverty, his horrific treatment of his wife and children suggests he is far from obtaining enlightenment. Yasodharā, on the other hand, did nothing but sacrifice herself for the betterment of another person and follow the rules of being a perfect Buddhist woman. It is not only Yasodharā who has met this fate—as much as we hate to admit it, men we as a culture admire, like Martin Luther King Jr. or Gandhi, were no saints when it came to their treatment of women.

This book is a challenging and eye-opening read, and the retelling and sharing of Yasodharā’s story is the most fundamental type of feminist act.

Written by: Jennifer Burgess, February 10th 2010