South End Press

Exile and Pride: Disability, Queerness and Liberation

admin — Mon, 11 Jan 2010 17:03:00 +0000

The best resistance literature describes a specific moment in history and is written within the context of an organized movement. As the disability movement gains more exposure and support, Eli Clare’s Exile and Pride will join the list of classics among resistance literature. Clare’s bold yet gentle narration of his experience as a disabled American gives readers an inside look at the consciousness of the movement.

Exile and Pride seeks to discover and explore how the disabled community can create pride, what words or symbols demonstrate this pride, and which collective or personal histories should be celebrated rather than simply witnessed. As a transgender individual with cerebral palsy, the activist also explores the various ways his body has been stolen and abused, and how such abuses can be avoided in the future by a revolution in the way mainstream society views and treats disabled individuals.

My favorite part of the book is the chapter titled “Freaks and Queers,” in which Clare provides readers with a history of the American “freak shows” that toured the country through the beginning of the twentieth century. Clare explores the lives of those who were exploited and who made a living off being known as a “freak.” Clare speaks about, and sometimes to, such people with a touching, yet bold, sensitivity that he has come to be known for. He also introduces his audience to a time and place that few who do not read Exile and Pride will ever ponder.

Clare uses the exploration of the freak show as a backdrop for exploring the larger issue of language, labels, and the process of “reclaiming” that so many oppressed communities undertake. The disabled community is of course no different. While embracing the terms cripple and queer, Clare pushes back on the use of the word freak and uses his unique brand of storytelling and personal narrative to explain the reasons why. It is Clare’s contention that freak not only implies self-hatred, but also reinforces historical lies and abuse of the disabled, such as those perpetrated by the freak shows.

I think one of the defining characteristics of resistance art is that it effectively raises the awareness of those in the mainstream. From the history of the freak show to Clare’s personal experiences and lyrical narratives, the book does just that.

For instance, although I have never watched it, I also never realized the annual Jerry Lewis marathon was a source of such anger and irritation for so many disabled individuals. I am also thankful to know about the “medical model of disability,” one that paints disabled people as being sick, and waiting for a cure, one that forces many to obtain non-medical, adaptive equipment from a doctor instead of a website. It is awareness of such issues that will bring the cure to ableism that Clare and millions of other disabled individuals and allies seek.

As a severely disabled individual who also has advanced degrees and has authored two books, Clare may be seen as “transcending” his disability. However Clare adamantly rejects such notions and instead envisions a world where people such as him as seen as full participants in mainstream society. Such a vision requires inclusion, not celebration, of those with “special needs” who live full lives. Clare turns his nose up at the insistence of mainstream culture to find “supercrips” who have “overcome” their disabilities.

Of particular interest to Feminist Review readers is Clare’s analysis of the line between being “a sexual object and a sexual subject” in the chapter “Reading Across the Grain.” I have never read such a poignant analysis of the subject that so few, even in feminist academia, fail to recognize. Clare gracefully describes how the media and the pornography industry have led women to believe that being objectified is a manifestation of their own sexuality. The confusion between self as object and self as subject has created a culture where violence and degradation are accepted forms of sexual expression. Unfortunately, as Clare points out, feminist debate over the topic of pornography and sexual expression remains polarized.

As an individual with disabled family members, I read Exile and Pride in a quest typical of those in the mainstream that Clare expresses frustration over. I read the book in an attempt to come to some understanding of the world in which those different from me live in. What I was reminded of and what I now seek to make a part of my own deeply ingrained consciousness is that those different from me don’t live in a different world. We all live together in the same world, but with vastly different realities. As feminists our role is to remember and expose these realities.

Written by: Janice Formichella, January 11th 2010

Dragon Ladies: Asian American Feminists Breathe Fire

admin — Tue, 14 Jul 2009 17:08:00 +0000

Edited by Sonia Shah

South End Press

Incredible. Insightful. Inspiring. These are the words I use to describe Dragon Ladies: Asian American Feminists Breathe Fire, the pivotal textbook on the growing politics of Asian American women. Essays embrace wide-ranging issues that include domestic violence, health, exploitation in the global trade, the role of spirituality, and punk-rock culture—all in the light of organizing and activism.

The anthology’s key concern is with the attitude of mainstream feminism whose individualistic and essentialist views are at odds with the affairs and experiences of Asian women. Sonia Shah, editor of Dragon Ladies, believes that a singular Asian American feminist movement is essential in representing Asian American women’s interests. The term ‘Asian’ is problematic in that it corresponds to a diaspora of ethnic identities, but Shah nevertheless manages to take into account the realities that females face from this walk of life.

As Juliana Pegues points out in “Strategies from the Field,” unlike white activists, Asian women have to deal with invisibility as well as “exotic” racial stereotypes and labels like “well-behaved,” “hard-working.” and “obedient.” The trouble is that Asian women’s perspectives are ignored when race is viewed in terms of black and white. When it comes to organizing resistance, “groups in many cases act as all-white groups internally, and white perspectives and standards are the norm.”

Purvi Shah’s article “Redefining the Home” is very engrossing, though the entire text is by no means an easy read. In fact, a lot of the material is tough, but if you’re passionate enough about this topic, you’ll fly through it. Shah discusses the belief that the personal is political when it comes to abuse within the home. Community elites seem to be the culprits in seeding the idea that culture and politics are separate issues—matters of the Home/Marriage for instance are cleverly disguised as tradition; these leaders are in essence threatened by organizations that challenge their norms. Rightly so, Shah proposes that “a home in which violence occurs is a public space” and a political problem that is affected by a range of factors like social, cultural and environmental.

Many prominent figures have come together to comprise this collection of interviews, personal essays, and eye-opening historical and current facts such as on the slave-like treatments of overseas Filipina workers. The joint mother-daughter article “Bringing Up Baby: Raising a ‘Third World’ Daughter in the ‘First World’” was a piece I found quite amusing and relevant to my own view of reality. Shamita Das Dasgupta and Sayantani DasGupta talk about balancing their different identities—Indian immigrant and American-born Indian—against Western culture. The idea of community is important to Indian culture and therefore for Indian women, it forms part of their identity; adopting the model of western feminism whose emphasis lies on the ‘individual’ would inevitably further alienate them; the issues concerning white feminists do not always apply to women of Asian origin.

Dragon Ladies: Asian American Feminists Breathe Fire in itself deconstructs the Asian woman stereotype conveying instead an image of the “virangana”—the ‘warrior woman’ thirsting to battle for change and victory. The contributors are good role models to rouse the next generation to self-reflect and take part in some form of action to empower the disadvantaged. From a spiritual standpoint, Cheng Imm Tan makes an important assertion: “When activism is fuelled by anger and hatred, we end up objectifying the ‘enemy’ just as we have been objectived.” What Tan then subtly suggests is that injustice can be met with compassion, and an intent to transform our aggressors rather than destroy them.

Certainly, this is a book with great ideas from women who not only breathe fire but speak with absolute conviction.

Written by: Payal Patel, July 14th 2009

The Revolution Starts at Home: Confronting Intimate Violence Within Activist Communities

admin — Mon, 02 Feb 2009 22:06:00 +0000

Edited by Ching-In Chen, Jai Dulani, Leah Lakshmi Piepzna-Samarasinha

South End Press

The Revolution Starts At Home is not your usual zine. At 111 pages, it qualifies as a book, and I’m excited to say the editors are looking for a publisher. Pending publication*, it will soon be available on the INCITE! Women of Color Against Violence website. Don’t be turned off by the bulk; this is an important zine that needs to be read by all activists of any sort. Contributors include Alexis Pauline Gumbs of UBUNTU, collective members of Communities Against Rape and Abuse (CARA), Vanessa Huang, Gina de Vries, and a collection of women from the Mango Tribe.

Tackling the touchy subject of partner abuse that occurs within so-called progressive communities is a brave move. The best thing about this zine, of which there is much good to speak, is the variety of voices present. It is written from a perspective of radical action, encompassing diversity in ethnicity, sexual and gender orientation, and yes, there are even male voices. An excellent job has been made to address partner violence between men and women, women and women, against transgender people, and even against the disabled.

One of the most interesting essays is by Peggy Munson: "Femora & Fury: On IPV and Disability." The essay made me rethink some of my own ableist assumptions. There are subtle ways that a differently-abled person can be abused that I had simply never thought of or did not immediately recognize as abusive, but certainly came to understand through this essay.

The one area that I felt was left out was in addressing women abusers of men. While the zine recognizes that women can be the abuser in women to women relationships, it is oddly silent on the matter of when it is the woman in a heterosexual relationship that is the abuser. This is an often-neglected discussion, and I would have liked to see some acknowledgment of it in such an otherwise well-rounded zine.

The zine is not easy, light reading by any means, but it balances personal essay with semi-academic notes, and organizational narrative of growth with step-by-step guidance on ways to address violence. While its core purpose is keeping abused women safe and centering their needs first, it does not leave out abusers. The zine seeks to hold them fully accountable while remaining compassionate to their potential to change. It also confronts how other members of the community can, unwittingly or intentionally, contribute to abuse through denial, privilege, or desire for “unity” within our movements. It holds each of us accountable to each other. There are tips and resources for the abused, the abuser, and the community as a whole so that we can recognize and openly address abuse in a proper and healing way that allows all of us to move forward.

The Revolution Starts At Home does not take the view that abuse can be pushed aside to be dealt with on another day, after the work of our movements is complete. Dealing with the abuse is part of the movement itself. No movement for justice will ever succeed if justice is not prioritized from within by supporting each other and creating a safe place for all members.

* In May 2011, South End Press published this zine as a book.

Written by: Aaminah Hernández, February 2nd 2009

When the Prisoners Ran Walpole: A True Story in the Movement for Prison Abolition

admin — Wed, 30 Jul 2008 23:55:00 +0000

By Jamie Bissonette

South End Press

Those of us who spend a lot of time lollygagging in the distant pass frequently encounter scenes of horror — people being tortured for their religious beliefs or identities, for example - and find ample evidence of our capacity for cruelty and inhumanity littering the landscape of human history. The game many of us play to ameliorate whatever righteous indignation we feel as members of the superior present is to imagine what horrors future historians will find in our own generation.

The current administration has single-handedly ushered in a whole host of candidates, beyond the many obvious ones - such as our confidence in the rightful supremacy of our species, which may well turn out to destroy us. Another obvious example is provided by this book and what its authors ominously refer to as the “prison industrial complex.” We can only hope that our enlightened progeny will be able to look back on our penal practices with the same sort of abhorrence with which we now view human slavery. In fact, the authors argue in stark terms, human slavery continues in the United States: prisoners, stripped of their rights and status as citizens, have become the property of the state. The system, they believe, is beyond reform and needs, literally, to be abolished.

Bisonette focuses on an all-too-brief episode of dramatic rebellion and radical change, and she enlists participants in the Walpole Prison rebellion, which began in 1972 and for a brief time transformed a draconian institution in Massachusetts. This historical moment was the result of a confluence of several extraordinary factors; one was the emergence of a strong, idealistic, African American criminologist named John O. Boone, who, remarkably, was given the responsibility (or at least the opportunity), as Massachusetts Commissioner of Corrections, to reinvent a failed penal system - one that was racist, violent, and the worst imaginable environment for human rehabilitation.

Another factor was the creation of the National Prisoners Reform Association by the prisoners themselves, a group that gained negotiating authority in times of conflict, developed programs such as education in Black History that confronted institutional racism and, to a remarkable extent, became self-governing. For a short time, it appeared that incarceration could, at least, be made more humane with work-release programs, education, and inmate participation in institutional governance. The furlough program was another of their innovations. Under Boone, 97 % of the furlough participants followed the rules and were able to make a contribution to their families and their communities. Of course among the 3% was the infamous Willie Horton, made a symbol of racial dread by Lee Atwater and his fellow hatemongers in the 1988 elections.

When the Prisoners Ran Walpole is a sad and exciting book: a very brief moment when some people in positions of power felt that prison reform — or even abolition — was possible and necessary. The book is short of practical specifics in laying out the road to prison abolition, and the polyvocality of the narrative sometimes interferes with the clarity and organization of the book. Still, for those looking for evidence that radical change is possible, the book is an encouraging beginning.

Written by: Rick Taylor, July 30th 2008

How Nonviolence Protects the State

admin — Tue, 17 Jul 2007 18:48:00 +0000

By Peter Gelderloos

South End Press

Do anti-war protests really stop the United States from invading another country? Do pro-choice marches affect legislation on abortion? Did sit-ins during the Civil Rights movement help to end racism? These are the questions that Peter Gelderloos asks in his new book How Nonviolence Protects the State. With a wealth of experience in anti-prison work, prisoner support organizations,and the anti-war and anti-globalization movements, Gelderloos brings his seasoned perspective to these important issues.

Drawing on large historical events, such as the Vietnam War and the Civil Rights movement, Gelderloos shows how pacifists and nonviolent protests have not achieved the same results that active resistance has. At a time when everyone in the world, except for the US government, is realizing that US troops need to leave Iraq now, Gelderloos’ book argues how ineffective the current peace movement has been at stopping the war and creating any sort of political change. Before the war broke out over four years ago, “[s]ome groups, like United for Peace and Justice, suggested the protests might avert the war. Of course, they were totally wrong, and the protests totally ineffective. The invasion occurred as planned, despite the millions of people nominally, peacefully, and powerlessly opposed to it.” So how do we switch our peace movement from marching in the streets to actually resisting our government and creating change?

It is this question that Gelderloos has a difficult time answering. How Nonviolence Protects the State _is not meant to change any minds. Instead, it reads as a reassurance for those who already know the ineffectiveness of peace movements. Gelderloos’ language is aggressive at times, as he conflates peace activists with “good sheep.” But perhaps this is his point. Maybe if we started to realize that marches and nonviolent protests were ultimately tools of society to make people feel as if they are creating change, then we would actually find a way to resist our government and create the change we want on our own terms. Covering a diverse range of topics, from how nonviolence is racist to how nonviolence is patriarchal, _How Nonviolence Protects the State is an important book to read for anyone who recognizes the ineffectiveness of peace activism today. And while the text doesn’t provide many answers, it does inspire the reader to reconsider her notions of “activism” and “change.”

Written by: Chelsey Clammer, July 17th 2007

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