women of color

Hey, Shorty!: A Guide to Combating Sexual Harassment and Violence in Schools and on the Streets

mandy — Sat, 30 Apr 2011 09:00:00 +0000

By Meghan Huppuch, Mandy Van Deven, Joanne N. Smith

Difficulties concentrating in school, shame, depression, guilt, fear, low self-esteem, poor body image, and powerlessness are just some of the repercussions that victims of sexual harassment at school experience, according to research conducted by Girls for Gender Equity (GGE). This Brooklyn-based nonprofit organization works to “improve gender and race relations and socioeconomic conditions for [the] most vulnerable youth and communities of color.” Joanne N. Smith, Mandy Van Deven, and Megan Huppuch of GGE have collaboratively written Hey, Shorty!, which tells GGE’s story, while providing a model for teens to teach their peers what constitutes sexual harassment and how to prevent it. The book also gives activists, educators, parents and students a hands-on guide to combat sexual harassment and violence in their schools and neighborhoods.

In September 2001, just a few months after GGE had started meeting to play basketball, an 8-year-old girl was raped on her way to school in the area. In response to the victim blaming that GGE founder Joanne Smith heard, she decided to discuss gender stereotypes and discrimination with the girls in the league. This evolved into Gender Respect Workshops, developed and facilitated by Mandy Van Deven with male and female students in the classroom. She discovered that sexual harassment was a major issue in the lives of the students, particularly girls and LGBTQ youth. Soon after, the Sisters in Strength program was born, and today it has become a paid year-long internship for teen girls of color to advocate for the enforcement of sexual harassment policies in New York City public schools through workshops and direct action.

Sisters in Strength’s first task was to raise awareness about the problem in the community, which led to their making Hey... Shorty!, a short film that later won Best Youth Documentary at the Roxbury Film Festival. They screened their film at the Street Harassment Summit, where they shared what they had learned with other members of the community.

A second Sisters in Strength project involved hands-on participatory action research. The teen interns collected information through surveys, focus groups, and slam books, or notebooks with written prompts that students can respond to anonymously. After compiling their data, they concluded that sexual harassment was rampant and normalized. Their research results were presented at GGE's Gender Equality Festival to other community organizations. Under Meghan Huppuch’s leadership, GGE went on to form the Coalition for Gender Equity in Schools with more than twenty other area organizations.

The work of GGE may well have given us the solution to bullying that we have so desperately sought. When we are sexually harassed, we believe we are alone and somehow deserve this treatment. In other words, we internalize our pain and suffer in silence. But from GGE’s research and community action, we see that this pervasive problem lies not within the person being harassed, but with the external forces that perpetuate and enable sexual harassment to exist in our schools and on our streets.

GGE is an empowering initiative for teens, our future leaders, and Hey, Shorty! is an essential resource for parents, teachers and community leaders who want to take action against bullying and sexual harassment in their communities. Chock full of capacity-building activities and ideas, Hey, Shorty! is indispensable for anyone who wants to create an environment where everyone thrives.

Written by: Heather Leighton, April 30th 2011

for colored girls who have considered suicide/when the rainbow is enuf

barbara — Fri, 11 Mar 2011 08:00:00 +0000

By Ntozake Shange

Scribner

There is something quite redemptive about the 2010 edition of Ntozake Shange's experimental “choreo-poem,” For colored girls who have considered suicide/When the rainbow is enuf, which is published as a tie-in to Tyler Perry's underwhelming film adaptation, For Colored Girls. Shange's words restore the choreopoem's original libratory message without the gloss and A-list names in Tyler's bastardised version. Consisting of a series of twenty overlapping poems about rape, post-traumatic stress disorder, abortion, love, and liberation, among other topics, Shange brings to life and colour the unsung voices of Black American women that was once upon a time, in 1974, long overdue. The poems come with stage directions that guide the reader in an imaginary theatre bold with exuberance and pathos, or at least that was something I was persuaded to imagine.

Shange is clear in her preface of the latest edition that For colored girls is a battle hymn for all women of colour, one that was inspired by the pain that reverberated her apartment walls in Harlem, New York, and one that should resonate powerfully with women of colour today and presumably the world over. But as a woman of colour who isn't black, American, or born into a long heritage of effacement and eventual self-discovery—a heritage that goes back to the brutal history of imperialist expansion and culminates in a present struggle for identity—I sometimes felt distanced from these verses. Despite my desire to connect to the ostensible potency of Shange’s poems, at times they were challenging, unfamiliar, and remote.

But this is not to say that Shange has failed completely in reaching out to all women and girls of colour on her work's core issues, as For colored girls urges me to read beyond its contextual trajectories and instead traverse the annals of my girlhood and young adulthood to find the common threads of insecurity, racism, and uneasiness in my own skin that binds all women of colour. But with that said, one's own way of finding the striking chord in Shange's work should not be so imaginatively contrived or elusive, particularly as each poem is guided in detail how it should be experienced and appreciated. To read out loud with the same joy and pain requires the intertextual quality that lies outside Shange's poems—out there in Black American communities, tangible and alive—that is absent in my world.

Nonetheless, there are stand-outs in Shange's work. In her poem on abortion, Shange captures the inner horror and absurdity of undergoing a termination procedure for the first time alone: “eyes crawling up on me/eye rollin in my thighs/metal horses gnawin my womb/dead mice fall from my mouth.” Others are obvious demystification of rape: “a friend is hard press charges against/if you know him/you must have wanted it.” Perhaps the most powerful of all is “somebody almost walked off wid alla my stuff,” a defiant speech of reclaimed independence from lovers who leave and take with them a woman's dignity, self-esteem, and faith in love itself.

The simplicity of Shange's language and the mimicry of colloquialisms invite readers to rethink the highbrow nature of poetry, interpretative dance, and theatre. There are more tears than laughters of joy, and despite the coloured girls who are “movin to the ends of their own rainbows,” rainstorms of anguish are long while rainbows are fleeting and sometimes elusive. In other words, there is still a battle ahead for women of colour and the fruits of the struggle are shared in small moments, often beautiful in verse.

Written by: Alicia Izharuddin, March 11th 2011

The Necessity of Climate Change: Women of Color Speak from the Ivory Tower

mandy — Thu, 11 Nov 2010 08:00:00 +0000

Interview with Morgane Richardson

Morgane Richardson graduated from Middlebury College in 2008 feeling that American colleges recruit women of color, but have no idea how to address the issues they face once they are enrolled. As a result, many of these women suffer depression, anxiety, and isolation in silence. Morgane decided to do something about this situation, and less than two years later, she has collected submissions from women all over the country who have had to navigate issues of race, class, and gender at elite, predominately white college campuses. With these stories, Morgane created Refuse the Silence.

Morgane is planning to publish a book and present a report to college administrators with a suggested plan of action to improve the college climate for women of color. In this interview, Morgane discusses the various misconceptions and stereotypes surrounding women of color in academic environments and the ways her website tries to support these women.

How do you determine which submissions should be part of Refuse the Silence?

All of the submissions we receive will be a part of Refuse the Silence; if not in the book, then definitely on our website or in our final report on the status of women of color in elite institutions. The decision about which entries will be reproduced in book format will be made by a handful of people, including the team that is selected to generate our final report, our editors, and the publisher.

What is the most surprising thing you have learned about the concerns of women of color at elite colleges?

To be honest, nothing. Thus far, none of the stories I have heard have been surprising. I know where these students are coming from because I either experienced it myself or know friends who did during their years living on these campuses. What I am really surprised by is the reality that little has changed. Students of color have racial epithets written on their walls every semester. College judicial boards and health centers are inadequately prepared to deal with women who are victims of sexual assault. The list goes on and on.

Are there ways you intend to address the issues of women of color who are neither members of elite academic communities nor part of the academic community?

I chose to focus on women of color in elite academic settings because that is what I know and what I can speak to. That being said, I have found that many of the stories and issues I hear from the women who are sending in submissions can be applied to women of color as a whole. White privilege, interracial dating, and the cost of an education are issues that affect all women of color. And the truth is, as a feminist, I work to give all women of color a voice.

Refuse the Silence is just one project that seeks to empower a specific group of the women of color population. Eventually, my hope is that this model can be used to help a wider demographic of women of color. I just need a lot more time and funding to make it happen.

Given the shortage of women of color as mentors, not only within the academic world but also the corporate world, what is your advice to women who are either in school or graduating looking to connect and learn from other women of color?

My main advice is to share your story! No one will understand what you are going through if you don’t make your voice heard. So many women of color feel as though they must keep their "issues" or experiences to themselves in an attempt to remain strong. Often times young women and men of color see their independent, strong, single mothers push forward without asking for help and grow up believing they must do the same. Refuse the Silence tells women they can also be strong by sharing their stories.

On a more tangible level, I recommend women of color find a mentor with whom they feel comfortable speaking. They can reach out to faculty and staff members, but also to alumni networks. As alums, we understand what they have experienced, and most of us are willing to listen and guide them in whatever direction they choose.

Do you think it is a misconception to believe that minorities in academic settings only want to seek out students within their ethnic or racial group?

Even at a young age there is a natural gravitation amongst people of color towards each other, especially in predominantly White settings. I don’t think there is anything wrong with that, especially when you are assimilating to a White culture, and when you have to be a part of that culture in order to succeed. The reality is, not everyone can survive in a predominantly White, elite, academic institution. On top of the stress of being a woman, searching for your identity, studying, and trying to make friends, people automatically separate you on the basis of your race. That added stress is overwhelming, and while some women of color can survive it, others need the support of a group of people who can understand it.

What are your thoughts on the argument that single-sex and all-Black colleges are no longer needed?

On a personal level I am as weary of an institution that is predominately Black as I am an institution that is predominately White… or an institution that is all-male or all-female. Academia is meant to be a place where you learn about theory and read from textbooks. But it is also a place where you learn about our society and how people function within it. I don’t believe you can obtain an honest and clear understanding of your global community if you are only surrounded by people who share similar experiences or come from a similar background.

That being said, as long as we continue to live in a White, male dominated society, I do believe we need these kinds of institutions. For me, it wasn’t the right setting, but for others, it might be.

What do you say to women of color who are worried that sharing their stories may backfire and hamper their success?

Actually, that is something we are dealing with right now. I recently received an email from a young woman we interviewed last year who has asked us to take down her video entry. She asked us because she is tired of dealing with people in her community who approach her and feel sorry for her after having seen her entry online. This is the first time this has happened with Refuse the Silence, but there are many women of color who decide not to share their stories because they don’t want to deal with the difficult outcome. I think this especially happens in elite institutions where your personal history and resume mean everything.

I recognize that it's a personal decision to fight, and then to fight loudly. But how do we move forward if we are afraid to speak out? How can we expect anyone to listen to us if we don’t say anything?

Based on your research so far, are there resources you recommend to women of color in college that will help them through their college years?

Find your peers and local women of color organizations! If anyone knows about what you are going through, it’s the people around you. I am not that far removed from college, and I remember how difficult it can be to reach out to those communities. So, I also recommend that women of color go online and start using social media to find people who are interested in fighting for a similar cause. There are tons of activists blogging about race and gender. There are feminists on Twitter speaking about women’s rights. And there are professors and heads of large organizations looking to see what is happening in the world. If a story on Refuse the Silence moves you, reach out to me and I will put you in contact with that person.

Many women of color do not identify as feminists. What are your thoughts on this position?

I have always said that I am a Black woman or, more recently, a Black feminist. No matter what my political and social beliefs are, people will always see my race before they see my gender, and that automatically separates me. I am not fighting solely for my freedom to be a woman. I am fighting for my freedom to live equally in this world as a Black woman.

I come from the understanding that feminism is about women and, in theory, should be race-neutral. But it is not. The feminist movement—and I’m sure everyone has heard this a thousand times—is rooted in White, middle class privilege. We live in a racist society, so it should come as no surprise that women of color can feel alienated within feminist groups.

I use this quote often, but I think there is no successful feminist revolution without an end to racism, among other -isms. Not all women can benefit from feminism if those systems are still in place. While I make a conscious decision to incorporate race as part of my identity as a feminist, others choose not to or may not see a reason to. So, to directly and simply answer the question, I understand why some women of color choose to not identify as feminists.

Can you share a personal goal you have and a goal you have for the site in the next year?

I recently made a big move out to Los Angeles, and I am terrified that I will be losing the feminist community I found in New York City. So, my personal goal is to make sure I find, and also create, a strong feminist network here that will provide me the space to continue growing and learning. As for Refuse the Silence, our team is working hard to make the project financially sustainable.

The full interview can be read at The Daily Femme

Written by: Cherie @ The Daily Femme, November 11th 2010

Experiments In A Jazz Aesthetic: Art, Activism, Academia, and the Austin Project

admin — Wed, 04 Aug 2010 16:05:00 +0000

Edited by Omi Osun Joni L. Jones, Lisa L. Moore, Sharon Bridgforth

University of Texas Press

In June 2009, I participated in a writing workshop with Sharon Bridgforth, not knowing what to expect and not knowing what I was expected to give. I only knew that I loved music, having already pledged my undying love for jazz at a young age, and that I loved writing; but I never intended to leave with a blueprint for the foundation of how I would put pen to paper from that point on. Since then, my writing has been centered in being present in the here and now, a soulful, deep listening, improvisation (which brings together both the aforementioned), and an integrity that refuses to deviate from what makes up what is known as the jazz aesthetic. It is always a work in progress, as it should be.

According to Austin Project founder Omi Osun Joni L. Jones, director of the John L. Warfield Center for African and African American Studies and Associate Professor of Performance Studies in the Department of Theatre and Dance at the University of Texas at Austin, the Jazz Aesthetic Manifesto “is a way to forestall the erosion of human connection by bringing to voice women of color and those white women who are able to learn the role of allies.” Jazz has always been about being in the moment, listening to oneself and to one’s surroundings, improvisation, and continuous change. Those precepts are among the few that shaped themselves into the manifesto that would become the Austin Project.

The Austin Project (tAP) was started in 2002 with a stone etching that “all women-all people-are inherently creative, are artists in their own right, and that claiming this identity can be transformative for individuals and communities.” It provides a space for women of color and their allies to write and perform in a jazz aesthetic as a strategy for social change, be they writers, performers, doctors, or social workers. It consists of collaborators Lisa L. Moore, Associate Professor of English and Women’s and Gender Studies at University of Texas at Austin, and Sharon Bridgforth, Lambda Literary Award-winning author of the bull-jean stories and love conjure/blues. Mentors and teachers of the women of tAP have included artistic nobility such as Laurie Carlos, Carl Hancock Rux, Virginia Grise, and Daniel Alexander Jones, to name a few.

Not often do I find it difficult to summarize the works of a collective into several hundred words; however, this is one of those times. Experiments in a Jazz Aesthetic includes the works of some of the previously mentioned collaborative artists, as well as a veritable who’s who in all things to do with art, activism, and the academics. Jones wrote that in conceiving the Austin Project, she was trying to save her own life; consequently, many births seem to have taken place, for many artists have birthed a way of creating, organizing, and performing. Whether it is art, activism, or academia—being present, listening, body- centered, true to the both/and instead of the either/or all on an inclusive level all serve as the foundation with which to maintain the integrity of the jazz aesthetic. It is always a work in progress, as it should be.

Written by: Olupero R. Aiyenimelo, August 4th 2010

Mangos with Chili (7/11/2010)

admin — Tue, 20 Jul 2010 08:00:00 +0000

Bluestockings

New York, New York

I was thrilled to be able to attend a special Mangos with Chili show on Sunday night at Bluestockings in the Lower East Side of Manhattan. I was thrilled not just because I consider the founders, Leah Lakshmi Piepzna-Samarasinha and Ms. Cherry Galette, dear amig@s, nor because dear amig@s of mine have performed under the spicy sweet banner, pero because the center is queer, trans, and gender nonconforming artists of color. Sunday night, people packed the bookstore and activist center to bear witness to the words and work of Leah Lakshmi Piepzna-Samarasinha, Victor Tobar, Ignacio Rivera, and Jai Dulani.

Leah Lakshmi Piepzna-Samarasinha opened the floor reading a piece from a memoir she’s working on about her life as a queer femme from Sri Lanka and creating community. Victor Tobar, in a series of stunning spoken word pieces, brought us to the Bronx and Brooklyn, and explored struggling against gentrification in those streets, what those streets demand of of their queer brown children, and how those children grow into adults, not easily, but wrapped in memories that constrain and free.

Brooklyn Black Boricua Ignacio Rivera used words to redefine the body as an answer to negative socialization and abuse and, in doing so, reclaimed kinky sexuality in his own terms. Rivera forced the listeners to confront our histories of violence and our daily interactions with it above and underground.

Jai Dulani closed the circle by presenting a film he has been working on regarding Caster Semenya entitled Caster Semenya: Wrong is Not Her Name. The film, through the use of news clips, looks at the invasive scrutiny Semenya’s gender underwent following her win in the women’s world 800-meter race. Dulani shows how race and gender biases collided and the history of the white, male, heteronormative gaze on the bodies of those who claim “woman.”

The artists in this Mangos with Chili performance reveal a breadth of talent fed by real life experiences rooted in personal struggles and continued survival. Some of their work will make you uncomfortable because of its frankness and raw reality, pero for many it will feel like someone opened the curtains in a dark secret room you were sitting alone in, let the sun in, and then threw a party.

It was all love.

Please follow Mangos with Chili as they decide their next tour and please follow all of the amazing artists. Arte, poesia y imagen can change the world.

Cross-posted at VivirLatino

Video credit: Sins Invalid

Written by: Maegan La Mala Ortiz, July 20th 2010

Forced to Care: Coercion and Caregiving in America

admin — Sat, 10 Jul 2010 08:00:00 +0000

By Evelyn Nakano Glenn

Harvard University Press

Evelyn Nakano Glenn is a professor of Women’s and Ethnic Studies at University of California, Berkeley and author of Forced to Care. Perhaps because of her vocation, the book has a bit of a textbook flavor to it, but as it progresses, she lets go and begins to fill it out with a more humanistic view.

Forced to Care begins with a look at those who are responsible for the lion’s share of caregiving in America. Glenn’s findings basically confirm what most of us know already: in most cases, women of color, women at the low end of the socioeconomic scale, and illegal immigrants are the ones caring for our nation’s young, disabled, and elderly.

The author then takes her inquiries one step further by tracing the roots of caregiving back to colonial America in an effort to discover why such a disproportionate amount of paid and unpaid caretaking falls to these individuals. Glenn does a terrific job of leading the reader through the individual events that occurred politically, socially, industrially, and economically to reinforce the notion that it is a woman’s duty to take care of needy family members. Following the shift from an agricultural, self-sustaining, family-based society to a market economy, Glenn shows just why gender divisions still remain with respect to these types of jobs. She illustrates, through the use of an amazing amount of research, just exactly how American women with very few other choices have been coerced into providing care for others to the detriment of their own needs for centuries. Our society’s continued devaluation of these kinds of “homemaking” services serves to perpetuate the problem.

It is clear that the author encourages a sea change with respect to both paid and unpaid caregiving, but she refrains from demonizing any particular groups or individuals, instead offering a clear, concise look at how we got ourselves here, and why we need to get out of this mess while we still can.

Glenn advocates for both care providers and those receiving care and uses her vast knowledge of the history and foundation of the problems to offer concrete solutions to the difficulties both face as our aging society pushes us closer to a crisis in the fastest growing segment of healthcare in America.

Before picking up this book, I was nearly certain that I would be called upon to care for elderly family members at some point in my life, although hopefully not until my children are grown and gone. Despite my fears of being able to do so with grace and love versus resentment and frustration, it was nonetheless something I didn’t see a way out of. I can’t say that Forced to Care allayed my fears in any way, but I gained a tremendous amount of insight as to how and why I might be called upon to provide such care and how, if I am so inclined, I might join in efforts to increase the availability of resources and respect for caregivers as a whole.

While the book is not an easy read—I didn't settle down with it in my lounge chair next to the pool—it is an absolutely eye-opening look at something many of us take for granted; that we as women will eventually be called upon to care for those family members who cannot do it for themselves.

Written by: Kari O’Driscoll, July 10th 2010

Women of Color and Feminism

admin — Wed, 18 Nov 2009 17:33:00 +0000

By Maythee Rojas

Seal Press

If many postmodern feminists would have it, colour or “race” wouldn't be of primary concern in theorising oppression; a woman would be seen as much more than her race, class, and sexuality. In other words, every woman's experience of oppression is nuanced, different. And if the postmodern approach is hugely popular and trounces other feminist methods of studying oppression, Women of Color and Feminism by Maythee Rojas would be rendered obsolete.

But it hasn't, and that's because we cannot get past race and the “assumptions based on our physical features [that] invariably work against our attempts at self-actualisation.” Thus the only way to gain some control over our lives as non-White women is by claiming politically-charged identities. In this, Rojas means 'Women of Colour'.

Rojas expresses surprise that her students, who are mostly people of colour, do not identify with the term, but she doesn't have to investigate too deeply to discover why: women of colour, as a group and in its use as terminology, have long been marginalised within academia. Learning about “Others” is reduced to courses on multiculturalism, and everywhere else, people are expected to be perceived as simply people. Rojas does not suggest, however, that the term is a loaded one, or one that has the political potency that feminist also has. Typically associated with the Black civil rights movement, “colored” can sound outdated and exclusive, and it's unsurprising that not many, especially outside the cabal of feminist academia, take it up.

Women of Color and Feminism is interspersed with profiles of women and historical vignettes that readers are made to understand as inspirations for feminist consciousness in different ethnic communities in the United States. One cannot help but note a sense of tragedy that overhangs each profile. Anna Mae Pictau-Acquash, Saartjie Baartman, Korean camptown women, and Josefa Loaiza are all women whose lives have been marked by and remembered for the brutality inflicted on them because of the way they looked and where they came from.

Disco diva Donna Summers makes an unexpected appearance as the subject of Rojas' analysis on the sexuality of women of colour. Known for her risque lyrics and sexy media persona, Summers' 1970s career is projected as a kind of yardstick for how much women of colour, particularly Black women, have gained following the sexual revolution in the 1960s. It's far from a 'happily ever after' of sexual autonomy and empowerment, Rojas notes, as everything the disco singer represented—in her music and image—was hugely complicit in reinforcing heterosexist 'love' and resurrecting the ghost of the Black Jezebel.

Rojas also covers a range of issues pertaining to the struggles of women of colour that are not usually associated with mainstream feminism. This includes reproductive rights as the right to remain fertile, as women of colour have been known to be sterilised against their will for numerous racist reasons, and the rights of incarcerated women to better health care in prison, protection from abuse behind bars, and better rehabilitation programmes.

The limitations I find in Rojas' already expansive account is the omission of feminist work by women of colour whose goals are integrated within mainstream feminism's agenda. This is important, especially in her final chapter on transnational feminism in which she stresses the key to feminism's dynamism is the need for common links with other feminists to be established on a continual basis—not just with other women of colour, but with white women too. Women of Color and Feminism makes it clear that under the pressure of silence and marginalisation, more and more women of colour feel compelled to create narratives that represent their unique experiences through whatever means possible. Visual art, stand-up comedy, and blogs are the new, life-affirming sources of inspirations for feminists of colour, and not Rojas' flawed selection of women of colour's tragic lives.

Written by: Alicia Izharuddin, November 18th 2009

Speak!

admin — Sat, 16 May 2009 10:15:00 +0000

By Radical Women of Color Media Collective

Liquid Words Studios

“Necesito gritar!” bellows Adele Nieves in response to the question she poses with her spoken word piece entitled “Why Do You Speak?”, which is the first track on the album. Through the unrestrained strength and rage smoldering behind every word, Adele provides a call to action against the overwhelming powers of erasure, invisibility, and silence that is exhaustively pushed upon women of color for centuries. Speak!, an explosive powerhouse of an album created by the Speak! Radical Women of Color Media Collective, uses spoken word, song, and poetry to detail the ins and outs of oppression and intersecting injustices, personal and collective struggle, and the redeeming powers of love, conviction, and pride.

Each piece pulses with vitality and pure unbridled emotion, whether somber or tempestuous in tone and content. The album in its entirety promotes the importance and the force of women’s voices, elaborate and concealed histories, and personal and collaborative forms of resistance. The individual artists weave together testimonies on their personal experiences with discrimination and hate, the dissolution of their intricate identities in favor of assimilation, and their reclamations of self and radicalization in a way that further illuminates the falsehood of the 'American Dream', as well as the continued necessity for political mobilization.

Pieces like “Slip” reveal the relationship between language and violence, showing the ways words embody hate and act as catalysts to brutality. Furthermore, many of the works analyze the ways the lives of women of color are invalidated statistically, in academic and political arenas, and in the day-to-day interactions with other people. Not only are there clear and poignant narratives on cultural genocide and racist and sexist hypocrisy, there is also a spirited display of hope, inspiration, and community in the face of the often crippling effects of adversity.

Ultimately, the passionate messages of beauty, love, and a constant determination to survive and prosper resound throughout the album. Coming out, the listener is motivated to assume their right to organize and to treat their illustrious identities as personal and political sustenance.

SPEAK is having a listening party in Brooklyn tonight. Wanna go?

Written by: Renee Leonowicz, May 16th 2009

Native Speakers: Ella Deloria, Zora Neale Hurston, Jovita Gonzalez, and the Poetics of Culture

admin — Wed, 08 Apr 2009 17:22:00 +0000

By Maria Eugenia Cotera

University of Texas Press

Native Speakers places the work of three foundational female folklorists in conversation to illuminate an often silenced part of feminist intellectual history, the ethnographic and folklore scholarship of women of color. Analyzing the ethnographic and fictional work of Dakota ethnographer Ella Deloria, African American folklorist Zora Neale Hurston, and Tejana folklorist Jovita Gonzalez, the text reveals the numerous factors that led to the marginalization of these three scholars who also happened to be women of color. Exploring how the work of Deloria, Hurston, and Gonzalez negotiates intersections of race, class, and gender in early twentieth century America, Cotera places an emphasis on empire and colonialism. In so doing, she reveals the ways in which imperialism affected colonized peoples in different ways, but led to similar results—silencing, marginalization, impoverishment, forced assimilation, and exile.

Cotera enacts an important excavation of the feminist intellectual tradition revealing that the voices of women of color are not absent as some have assumed, but instead have been neglected or silenced. Emphasizing the need to take historical specificity and social location into account, and arguing that the work of these three women contains "complex decolonizing textual subversions," Cotera further claims that "the most provocative point of connection" is each woman’s exploration of "the political and poetic possibilities of fiction." The emphasis she places on the fictional work of these women is unique, especially in the cases of Deloria and Gonzalez, neither of whose fiction was published during their lifetimes.

The book also documents the history of intellectual theft as it pertains not only to these women of color, but to the work of marginalized "others" in general. This reclamation reveals how various fields (ethnography, folklore, literature, feminism, and so on) have relied on the voices of women of color and other marginalized groups, yet have often rendered such voices invisible by using their work without giving them credit. Illuminating how gender, race, and class play key roles in this socio-historical silencing, Cotera's work speaks volumes about how vital it is to reclaim such histories.

The book is organized in two sections, with the first exploring the ethnographic and folklorist work of Deloria, Hurston, and Gonzalez, and the second considering their fictional work. The text offers a detailed account of the history, politics, and socio-cultural conditions that shaped the work of these three women while offering cogent analysis of how race, class, gender, nation, and empire informed both their work and the responses to it, and is especially useful for those interested in feminist anthropology, ethnography, folklore, and literature.

Bookending the two sections are a lengthy introduction ("Writing on the Margins of the Twentieth Century") and a concluding epilogue ("What Love Got to Do With It?: Toward a Passionate Practice"). Each of these sections are beautifully written with a comprehensive theoretical approach that teases out the complex aims of the text while offering a thorough consideration of the historical, sociocultural, and intellectual traditions shaping the work of these three authors in particular and feminist ethnographers/folklorists in general.

The epilogue is one of the most intriguing sections of the book as it covers what is so often left out in academic manuscripts—love, or what Cotera refers to as "passionate praxis." Drawing on Chela Sandoval’s idea of love as a "decolonizing practice," Cotera argues that the work of these women is both motivated by and about love. Their work is driven, she argues, by a passion for sharing and unearthing marginalized knowledge (in terms of gender and race/ethnicity). Further, their work is about the love(s) of the various peoples/characters populating their writing.

Exploring the role of women as active social agents, these women, Cotera argues, "fundamentally reorient the masculinist and colonialist direction of our collective historical imagination." Exploring what Cotera names as affinities inside differences, their work, along with that of Cotera’s, re-imagines feminist intellectual history, opening up a space for othered voices. What is not to love about that?

Written by: Professor What If, April 8th 2009

Feminist Media Reconsidered

admin — Tue, 29 Jul 2008 05:12:00 +0000

Interview with Jessica Hoffmann, Daria Yudacufski

Some of the most incisive feminist analysis today is being published in the groundbreaking make/shift magazine. Started by three activists – Jessica Hoffmann, Daria Yudacufski, and Stephanie Abraham, who first worked together as founders and editors of the feminist zine LOUDmouth – make/shift is run by an editorial/publishing collective committed to antiracist, transnational, and queer perspectives. Together, the collective publishes “journalism, critical analysis, and visual and text art that documents contemporary feminist culture and action.”

Elevate Difference recently caught up with Jessica Hoffmann and Daria Yudacufski to learn about the meaning behind the magazine’s name, social justice-oriented feminism, and Hoffman’s recent call to action, “An Open Letter to White Feminists,” that lit up the blogosphere.

What is the significance of the magazine's title, make/shift?

Daria Yudacufski & Jessica Hoffmann: It’s about making – making media, making change, making communities, making movements, making art, and making shifts – shifting power, shifting paradigms, shifting society. And it’s about doing it with what you’ve got, in a non-institutional, resourceful, do-it-yourself makeshift way.

**What are the origins of make/shift? When did the idea first arise and how did you manifest it into the magazine we see today? **

Daria: Stephanie Abraham and I founded a feminist zine called LOUDmouth through the Women’s Resource Center at California State University, Los Angeles, where I used to work. Jessica, although not affiliated with the university, contributed to the zine and was an editor as well. As the three of us worked together, we realized that it would be great to do an independent version of the magazine on a larger, national scale. So, based on our experience with LOUDmouth and Jessica’s experience writing and editing for other magazines and books, we realized that we had the energy and ability to make it happen. After about a year of meetings and conversations and brainstorming with each other and with friends, we were able to turn our idea into a reality.

Many discussions about feminism include reflection on one very basic question: “What is feminism?” How does make/shift define feminism?

Jessica: First, we really don’t see feminism as a singular thing with one definition. There have always been multiple feminisms, and _make/shift _is most interested in and excited about the feminisms that look at how systems of power work, how people and communities collectively resist, and creative alternatives to oppression.

What was your earliest understanding of feminism, and what sparked your own consciousness as feminist activists?

Jessica: My earliest understanding of feminism was that it was sexism against men. I thought it was a negative and hateful thing, which is obviously something I learned from anti-feminist mainstream culture. From a very young age, I had been interested in social justice and peace work, and it took a while for me to see that feminism was not hateful, but was actually a lens through which I could see that all of these issues I cared about – from war to the environment to poverty – were affected by the same oppressive types of power. Feminism was amazing in showing me how to look at those things in structural ways, as well as in personal ways.

Daria: My earliest understanding was really through a women’s rights perspective, and the very basic idea that women and men should be equal. Growing up in Monterey, California in, like, 1981, I was about ten years old and out for a walk with a friend. We came across a rally for the Equal Rights Amendment (ERA). I was really inspired by all of these people coming together for something which seemed so obvious and necessary. It was at that point that I put an “ERA Yes!” bumper sticker on my elementary school notebook. However, my thoughts around feminism have evolved immensely since then, and for me, feminism is much more about larger social justice issues than women’s issues specifically.

The range of pieces in make/shift is quite striking. The content moves from personal essays to critical analysis to visual and textual art, and even a crossword puzzle! What led you to assemble the magazine in such a way, and was it a response to content you saw lacking in other feminist publications?

Jessica & Daria: This was very intentional. Part of believing that feminisms are plural is understanding that feminisms happen in many different voices and forms. In our mission of documenting contemporary feminisms, it is essential to represent as wide a range of voices and forms as possible. We know that this flies in the face of conventional magazine-making wisdom, which suggests that you should have a strong, single cohesive voice throughout the magazine, but we believe it is going to take many approaches and many voices to make change, and we want make/shift to reflect that.

Jessica: And there are very few venues that publish literary fiction that is formally inventive and politicized. I definitely wanted to make space for that in make/shift.

Why a print magazine at this particular time? As you know, there is discussion about the “relevancy” of print versus online media, and these are risky times for D.I.Y. projects, as many magazines have shut down due to financial issues. What is your opinion about the place of print media – especially social justice publications like make/shift – in our culture today?

Daria: Well, I think we both love print and the tangible quality of magazines. It feels so much more personal and intimate and just has such a great impact on me as a reader.

Jessica: We definitely thought about the questions of print vs. online in terms of environmental impact and financial costs and decided to go ahead with a small-scale print publication for a few reasons. As Daria said, we love magazines. I read a lot online, but there are some things that I really want to read in print, like fiction, long-form essays. There are still accessibility issues around the Internet, and while there’s a lot of amazing social justice media happening online, there are relatively few print outlets doing that work, so we thought we’d jump in.

What do your four columnists (Randa Jarrar, Erin Aubry Kaplan, Nomy Lamm, and Mattilda aka Matt Bernstein Sycamore) collectively bring to the magazine?

Daria & Jessica: We sat down and brainstormed who our dream columnists would be, and they were our first choices, and we were excited that they all agreed to participate. They bring an amazing array of ideas and perspectives in their beautiful and thoughtful writing. And we love working with them!

As you note, make/shift is created by “an editorial collective committed to antiracist, transnational, and queer perspectives.” Will you explain how your commitment to these perspectives informs your editorial decision-making process?

Jessica & Daria: Those are the perspectives that we have, and so, every single decision we make is informed by those perspectives. It’s quite simple really. Basically, we’re conscious of all of these issues in every aspect of making the magazine, from how we relate to each other to determining the magazine content to editing in a collaborative way.

**There has been much discussion among feminists about who the feminist movement truly serves. This includes a lot of division and soul-searching lately, as recent discussions about white feminist privilege and women of color marginalization have pushed many prominent white, feminist bloggers, authors, and publishers to speak more publicly about white privilege in the movement.

Jessica, you also wrote an inspiring and widely discussed piece in the third issue of make/shift (“On Prisons, Borders, Safety, and Privilege: An Open Letter to White Feminists”) that deftly examines these issues and more. Will you speak about the origins of that piece, the response you’ve gotten since then, and where you hope the discussion ultimately brings the movement?**

Daria: These discussions have led to a lot of internal conversations and dialogues about feminism and white privilege. There has been a lot of really scary and hurtful stuff put out there by mainstream white feminists, and we have talked a lot as a collective about whether feminism is even the appropriate framework for our magazine. A big part of why we exist as a magazine is because mainstream feminism has totally excluded or marginalized more radical voices, women of color, trans voices, etc., and at the same time, social justice-oriented media often excludes gendered perspectives. I feel like, if we were to stop using feminism as a framework, then we’d let those dominant voices win.

Jessica: These discussions around white privilege in feminism are not new, of course. There have always been skin- and/or class-privileged feminists who have failed to understand or reckon with their privilege and who have tried to lead a movement that centers their needs – a movement that should never have had a center or leaders to begin with. I mean, to get back to the plural-feminisms thing, I don’t even think it’s useful to imagine feminism as a single movement. And while there have always been liberal/mainstream feminists with privilege who have tried to push a movement that would address their needs while leaving larger power structures fundamentally unchallenged, there have also always been feminists with more radical takes. I came to feminism via bell hooks and Angela Davis. The first feminist texts I read were by radical women of color who insisted on an intersectional analysis and offered scathing critiques of white-led liberal feminisms. Those are the feminisms that are inspiring and seem useful to me.

In terms of the open letter I wrote, in some ways it seemed like what I had to say there was really obvious and almost didn’t need saying (and much of it had already been said by amazing radical feminists of color, like brownfemipower and folks from Incite!). But it seemed like there were these privileged feminists who kept saying they had an “intersectional” analysis, or were antiracist or whatever, yet they kept repeating these old habits of movement-making that centered privileged “women’s” needs. I had this feeling that maybe it was worth pointing out some specific ways I was seeing racism and white privilege playing out within liberal/white feminism, while also acknowledging my own experiences of privilege and how that had kept me, at different times in my life, from seeing the way power was really working – to note how problematic it is for people who are not seeing in those ways to be at the center of, or leading, feminist action. Also, I wanted to call out liberalism and strongly say that liberal feminism is a really different thing from radical, social justice-oriented feminism.

I’m not yet totally sure what to make of the responses to it. In some ways I’ve been surprised at how hard people who say they believe in social change want to hold on to privilege, and how unaware they seem to be of what they’re doing. It almost makes me feel naïve for thinking that anyone who believes in liberal/assimilationist approaches might possibly get something out of the article.

At the same time, it’s been heartening to get positive feedback from folks who did feel like they got something out of it, so… I dunno. I take this shit seriously, you know? I really want to believe that there are lots of people who really want to see societies work differently, power shared differently, and who are willing to get honest and uncomfortable and emotional and serious (and playful and loving, too!) in collaborating together to make that happen. I want to hope that. And I think the politics of privilege that call themselves feminism are just a really sad, sorry monster-wave trying to wash away that hope. I guess I was trying to write against that, to hope aloud for something better.

What feminist activists do make/shift admire? To borrow from your mission, who do you feel is best “resisting and creating alternatives to systematic oppression” right now?

Jessica & Daria: The contributors and the people and projects that we feature in the magazine, like brownfemipower, Ubuntu, Incite!, Mia Mingus, Mattilda Bernstein Sycamore, WelfareQUEENS, Young Women’s Empowerment Project – really everyone who has contributed to or been featured in the magazine, but there are so many more. You’ll just have to keep reading the magazine to find out who they are!

What’s next for make/shift?

Daria & Jessica: It’s hard to believe, but we’re almost done with issue four! It’ll be out in September and will include a spread on cooperative economics; a selection of letters between radical women of color, guest edited by Alexis Pauline Gumbs; a beautiful personal essay called “River” by a writer named Davka that you just have to read; a really wonderful photo essay by an artist named O.K. Riley about young women and sexuality; and so much more!

Photo Credit (Daria - left and Jessica - right): Giuliana Maresca

Written by: Ellen Papazian, July 29th 2008

The Revolution Will Not Be Funded: Beyond the Non-Profit Industrial Complex

admin — Tue, 19 Jun 2007 14:15:00 +0000

Edited by INCITE! Women of Color Against Violence

South End Press

The Color of Violence: The INCITE! Anthology was the first publication that documented some of the concerns and challenges addressed at the Color of Violence Conference, which began at University of California-Santa Cruz in 2000. Since then, there have been two more conferences, organizing campaigns and the SISTERFIRE tour of radical women artists. Now, this collective of women activists and their allies has released The Revolution Will Not Be Funded as their second anthology. This second collection of critical analysis and reflections offers a probing focus on the Non-Profit Industrial Complex (NPIC) and the foundations that determine the agendas of many organizations and movements today.

The book begins by talking about the history of foundations, how foundations often act as tax shelters for wealthy founders and do not necessarily spend a significant amount of their budgets on funding organizations and how the money offered always comes with constraints. These constraints include adhering to a corporate model that starts not only to shift the political agenda of organizations away from research, education and self-empowerment, but these same constraints displace people who are working within these movements because they have not specialized in getting credentials or getting to know people in dominant power structures.

Non-profit organizations—also referred to as non-government organizations (NGOs) here—rely on more and more people who act as liaisons and trained organizers whose motives can be questionable. In spite of all the problems that foundation funding entails, there is a variety of perspectives here that explain what it means to limit accepted funding, to find alternatives to foundation funding and break away from the increasingly professionalized model of activism that relies more heavily on public relations, jargon and social services than addressing the roots of dilemmas rising out of a specific community.

The contributors are thorough in documenting their own experiences with non-profits. Some of them depart from the NPIC structure entirely. Some notable essays include the return to a volunteer staff by Sista ii Sista and how the young women in the organization determined the needs of the group, Madonna Thunder Hawk’s essay on organizing with AIM (American Indian Movement) during the Red Movement and Paul Kivel’s thought-provoking questions in “Social Service or Social Change?” Far from being anti-academic, The Revolution Will Not Be Funded is a well-thought out approach to finding alternatives to a funding system that, in many ways, reinforces the dominant paradigms of class, race, sexism, homophobia and international exploitation. Community activists should read this and ask themselves hard questions and rethink strategic planning.

Written by: Tara Betts, June 19th 2007

Mommy's Angel

admin — Thu, 07 Jun 2007 13:30:00 +0000

By Miasha

Touchstone Books

Most savvy feminists can argue their way through complex social problems such as sexual violence, poverty and drug use. Most savvy feminists, though, could not articulate those issues though a fast-paced, sharply written story like Mommy’s Angel. Dubbed as “a writer to watch” by Publishers Weekly,” Miasha tells the heartbreaking story of one fifteen year old girl’s steel gut and courage in her battle for survival with a heroin-addicted mother and a web of deceit and manipulation.

Miasha depicts some of the most pressing issues of feminism by mixing city street vernacular into the cycle of modern day oppression that fuels the most heated debates in western feminism. Can forms of sex work and stripping be considered modes of empowerment for young women? What forms of intervention can adeptly disrupt the cycle of addiction, rape and teen pregnancy? This work of fictional brilliance is a succinct glimpse into the heart of young girls who seek family redemption, reliable and safe options, and relief from domestic hell.

This jarring novel is loaded with emotion as it takes the reader through the struggle of one woman who is, chronologically, a teen, but takes on adult responsibilities and choices as she hopes, torments and fights through the vicious hands of urban poverty and rape. With a smart-mouthed younger sister, a loving boyfriend, an abusive employer, and a handful of irresistible page-turning characters, Miasha has constructed a feminist rollercoaster that serves as an important catalyst to explore the painful intersection of social issues facing young women today.

This novel, like everyday life, reminds us that our discourse and intentions must be inclusive, updated and knowledgeable of the realities plaguing our inner-city communities. It serves as a wake-up call that concerned readers must be able to adequately recognize the strategic anti-poverty agendas from the blithe political plans that are often addressed in binary jargon that do little to alleviate the suffering of the oppressed.

After completing the novel in one sitting combined with a stunning ending that left me staring, non-blinking at the ceiling, Mommy’s Angel will haunt your conversations and linger in your personal thoughts for days after the last page is turned.

Written by: Lisa Factora-Borchers, June 7th 2007

Check the Rhyme

admin — Thu, 01 Mar 2007 14:13:00 +0000

Edited by DuEwa M. Frazier

Lit Noire Publishing

Talk about a breaking silences; we finally have an anthology speaking to women of diverse backgrounds, backgrounds usually ignored or tokenized in more traditional publications. Check the Rhyme is a new anthology and one of the first dedicated not only to women of diverse backgrounds, but to both “female poets & emcees.” What do I think? I say: Hallelujah, Hallelujah; thank the stars this anthology exists! For one of the first times, female emcees and poets speak about issues as diverse as hip-hop, hair, Hurricane Katrina, and Black history. Long ago, the quest to break silences was begun by such artists as Nikki Giovanni and Audre Lourde; this anthology continues the struggle to have new histories and perspectives discussed.

The goal of the anthology, as its editor writes in the Introduction, is to “teach young girls” that this anthology exists. Finally, we have a collection does not “other” its subjects; the realities set forth under such section titles as “About Hair,” “Growing Up in the Hood” and “I Dream of Hip Hop” are presented as empowering, lyrical communications of realities one may not find in the next anthology of this and that. With both received/traditional forms such as the haiku existing in the same space as rhyme/rap forms, this anthology presents not only a diverse view of the world, but a diversity of poetic forms. Rather than villanize hip hop, this anthology offers new perspectives and offers a space to socially conscious emcees. In Mikayla Simone’s poem “American,” she asks “Where is my country?” I think her America exists in the space of this anthology tackling class and ethnicity and class and love and family, among other subjects.

Frazier’s anthology offers a new perspective of our nation(s), our world(s), and of identification. The result is a publication that empowers and will hopefully throw light on what has been marginalized or unseen.

Written by: Lisa Bower, March 1st 2007