event

UK Feminista Summer School (7/31 - 8/1/2010)

admin — Wed, 11 Aug 2010 16:01:00 +0000

Amnesty International Human Rights Action Centre

London, England

UK Feminista was started by Kat Banyard, the author of The Equality Illusion: The Truth About Men and Women Today, who gave a particularly inspiring speech during the first panel, "The Importance of Feminist Organising."

The enormous strength of the first day of summer school was its focus on practice. The afternoon was split into workshops on different levels of involvement: from how to organize a Ladyfest to running effective campaigns, organizing demonstrations, and planning direct action. All the materials from the workshops will be available at the UK Feminista website in the coming days.

Simultaneously to the events, UK Feminista volunteers were tweeting, providing quote selections and links so well that I didn't feel the need to take many notes. Instead, I have an online record of what was being said under the #femschool hashtag on Twitter. It is a goldmine of news, information, and people!

What struck me about the event, aside from supreme organization, was the enthusiasm of everyone involved, organisers and participants alike. People were chatting away and forming new alliances all the time. There's no better feedback for an event than when people just don't want it to end.

The second day was a lot more opinion- and discussion-based, but great training was still being given. We learned how to use media and influence politicians, how to fundraise and include disabled people in campaigning, the importance of promoting diversity within feminist groups, and why is climate change a feminist issue. The two arguably biggest events of the day, however, were the opening and closing panels. The first was with Jess McCabe of The F-Word, Hannah Pool, and Kira Cochrane. All three talked about their experiences with the media, and all agreed that to be a female journalist takes more effort and more talent, but their examples showed it was possible, and important.

The closing panel, "Feminist Question Time" with Bidisha, Dr. Aisha Gill, Sunder Katwala, Karon Monaghan QC, and Julie Bindel, provoked a lot more controversy. Bindel said there was a lot of terrible anthropological research concerning women in the sex industry, and that they should not be treated as an anthropological field research group; she went so far as to say that if she had one bullet in a gun, it would not go for the pimp, but for the academic who's all into the sex industry. Bindel also said, "we make a lot of excuses for men to the point where we praise them for not being fuckheads," which made everyone laugh, but later someone angrily said that the men in the audience must feel very excluded in the current talk, to which both Bindel and Bidisha reacted heatedly.

Overall I am inclined to say this was the best summer school I ever attended. It was a really inspiring, great opportunity to learn, meet people, and acquire skills and information to proceed with conviction and fury.

Excerpted from Women, Fire, and Dangerous Things

Photo credit: Kirsty McCall-Thornley

Written by: Marta Lucy Summer, August 11th 2010

Florida Supercon (6/18 – 6/20/2010)

admin — Fri, 30 Jul 2010 04:01:00 +0000

Doubletree Miami Airport Hotel and Convention Center

Miami, Florida

Since I live in Miami, a city of fashionable sameness, it can be difficult to find alternatives to the mainstream culture. So I was convention curious. Yet all I knew about anime was what I’d seen on Adult Swim or the Syfy channel: doe-eyed, borderline pornographic girls in their miniskirts and ponytails. I can never get past the not-so-subtle little girl fetish. Change the channel, thanks.

Of course, there is the stereotype of the person who regularly watches Adult Swim—a pasty-faced, bespectacled, often bearded man-boy who lives in his mother’s living room—and hey, if we’re going the route of stereotypes, why not throw in Comic Book Guy from The Simpsons. That was my starting point for the Supercon.

Supercon is diverse compared to other conventions. I went with a friend, a veteran con goer. She spoke about how comic cons bring out collectors as well as kids, while anime cons appeal to the pink-haired teenagers. Florida Supercon had all of these audiences. It also had fans of yesteryear TV shows and films with actors like Dawn Wells (Mary Ann from Gilligan’s Island), Tia Carrere (Wayne’s World), and Guest of Honor Richard Roundtree (Shaft). And if you wanted an autograph from a wrestler or former Playboy playmate, they were there too.

The convention schedule on Saturday offered a few women-related panels, where I hoped to observe how women and girls are represented at a con. First was the "Girl’s Guide to Con Going" with the female hosts of the Anime Addicts Anonymous podcast. This panel was my introduction, and I felt both out of place and at home. Out of place because the three women were decked out in wigs and costumes, and spoke another language with Dragon Ball Z, cosplay, and other con references:: “I need a new d20.” (Did con speak require a dictionary? Write it down, ask questions later.) I felt at home because these women also spoke a language in which I am fluent: feminism. I don’t know if that’s how they would define themselves, but they certainly had ideas that many feminists would support.

The women counseled the audience on not giving out too much information to people at conventions and creating a limited Facebook profile for con friends. At first, this seemed very Dateline NBC (read: obvious advice); then I noticed the young girls in the audience. Some were twelve or thirteen years old, maybe younger. Some of them were sitting alone. The three women on the panel looked like they were in their early twenties, and they acted as role models and mentors. How should you respond to a creepy con guy who wants to take your picture? Say no: “If that voice in your head says this is weird, listen to it.” I hadn’t expected this kind of talk at a comic book convention.

One of this panel’s best topics was how to create affordable and practical costumes. (Some context for the uninitiated: what you wear is a major part of conventions. Sometimes people dress as characters of their own gender, but attendees are just as likely to cross-dress.)The "Girl’s Guide to Con Going" was all about comfort in costuming; if you went wearing flats, that would be one less thing to worry about. Pack a change of clothes and double-sided tape. Practice poses in front of a mirror before the convention. “You may think something looks cool, but it doesn’t, and then you’re on YouTube,” said one panelist.

The panel also encouraged the audience not to live up to unrealistic portrayals of women when working on their costumes. Sexy girls are part of anime, like the female anime character featured on the back of the Florida Supercon program: Yoko from Gurren Lagann. She has red hair in sweeping ponytails, a skimpy maid costume, big boobs, a flat stomach, and a come-hither wink. The panelists offered the female audience validation: “That body type doesn’t fit into the real world! Anime is drawn; they aren’t based on real people. So, tailor your costume to whatever fits you.”

As far as their own costumes, the panelists were dressed as characters from Baccano! Nice Holystone wore an eye patch; Miria was a blonde in a red dress and opera gloves; and red-haired Ennis was dressed in a suit. Silly me. I had thought Ennis was Dana Scully from The X-Files.

The next women-related panel, "Meet The Roller Derby Girls," presented the South Florida skaters from the Gold Coast Derby Grrls. Roller derby is inclusive of both genders, in some respects; men can participate as referees, but only women can compete. Skaters recreate themselves into personas with names like Souljourner, Dela Ruthless, and Heinous Grace. One of the women, Caffeine Crash, explained the connection between roller derby and a comic book convention: “When you skate, it’s like an alter ego—like you’re putting on a character. But at the same time, that’s when you’re most yourself, with the war-paint and being kick-ass.”

While this is reminiscent of cosplay, that’s probably where the similarity ends. Roller derby is a fast-paced game where skaters often get injured—sprained shoulders and bruises are standard—so skaters learn to “fall small” and spend money on a good set of knee pads. The sport is one of the few outlets where women can be full-on aggressive. But what’s remarkable is how roller derby has become an international network of women who support each other and contribute to charitable causes. (The Derby Grrls have organized relief efforts for Haiti and collected supplies for people affected by the oil spill crisis in the Gulf.) The Gold Coast Derby Grrls have traveled nationwide for matches in Philadelphia and Oklahoma. Despite the competitive nature of the sport, other leagues will often show hospitality by giving their competitors a place to stay.

The last panel was on Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and featured Georges Jeanty, the artist who worked on the season eight comic book. Jeanty’s previous work includes strong female characters like Wonder Woman and Razor. He considered what makes Buffy different: “Most female characters in comics are men drawn in female form. Buffy is independent and powerful, but still very much a girl.”

But what does it mean to be a girl? The first two panels had presented more than one definition. You could have comfort in your cosplay or you could be bruised up from roller derby. There are many ways to be an independent and powerful girl.

However, Jeanty’s point about the male influence on comic books was made evident by browsing the Florida Supercon's vendor and artist tables. Plenty of the female characters in comics and anime could have been featured in Playboy or Hustler. There was even a Typhoid Mary action figure with mechanical straitjacket and spread-eagle legs. What’s the message here—keep your women locked up and prone?

There were also empowering images to be found. The front cover of Derrick Fish’s The Wellkeeper made my friend stop at his table: “Look, she has a belly!” Zoe is the main character, a young girl with curves. The cover shows Zoe ascending into the sky out of the green earth, surrounded by a radiant light. A synopsis of the story suggests that Zoe is connected to a planetary life force, so there are definite mother-earth overtones. Her belly makes sense in that context, but she also represents a body type we don’t often see as heroic, and that acts as an alternative to depictions like Typhoid Mary.

Artist Juan Fontanez said he appreciated the presence and influence of female artists and collectors at Florida Supercon. This sentiment was also shared by Banky (V. Farano), who has sometimes been mistaken for a “convention girlfriend” instead of an artist. Yet Danielle Soloud, creator of the webcomic Life With Death, voiced the need for even more women in the industry. She said, “We should be able to get in there… boys and girls [can] make comics together!”

Younger fans have found interesting ways to deal with gender disparities. I asked a group of teens—one boy and three girls, aged twelve to eighteen—about what it’s like for a girl at these conventions. One girl responded, “It’s harder because of the costumes… sometimes it’s easier [for a girl] to be a guy.” She went into detail about how it costs less money and results in more fun if you're seen as a boy. The only difficulty was in binding down her chest, but the compliments made it seem worth it.

Another girl, who was dressed as Allen Walker from D.Gray-man, said some people didn’t recognize her as a girl in costume; instead, they just said she was a really good Allen. The boy was dressed as his own gender, with orange hair and a brown robe. He insisted that when a guy dresses as a girl, it was “just for laughs.”

Sure, Florida Supercon had women in tight-costumes, all boobs and high heels, and more than a few pasty-faced man-boys (even a few who could double as Comic Book Guy), but that stereotype is a very limited truth. Women artists and fans are claiming their place in the realm of comic books, anime, video games, and sci-fi while cosplay is expanding the continuum of gender expression. There is definitely the potential for empowerment at conventions like Florida Supercon; however, women and men should continue to voice the need for broader representations. For every Yoko, there should be a Zoe. Until then, women should keep attending these conventions and establishing a presence within this pop culture niche—so every girl can be her own superhero.

Photo credit: Debbie Chamberlin

Written by: Andrea Dulanto, July 30th 2010

Mortal Plush: I Am Not Your Toy (08/2009)

admin — Fri, 02 Oct 2009 23:56:00 +0000

Art Whino Gallery

National Harbor, Maryland

As soon as I walked into the gallery, I became a former version of myself: a little girl who was absolutely giddy upon seeing so many wonderful stuffed animals. Each lovely creature was mounted and labeled (it is an art gallery, after all), but I wanted to reach out and touch them all, as though they were living creatures, like I used to believe my stuffed animals were.

The pieces were exquisite. With masterful detail, each artist had projected precise human emotion onto their works of felted wool, cloth, or other fiber art medium. Ranging from haunting to delightful, these creatures beckoned gallery visitors to step into their whimsical worlds while simultaneously inspiring awe at the sheer artistic ability that went into many of the works.

Numerous pieces were sold, and prices ranged from $10 to $700. Artists were not only from Washington, D.C. and Maryland, but from a dozen states and another half-dozen countries. Some of my favorite artists were Kit Lane, Kerry Flaherty, Claire Streatfield of Fur Will Fly, Diane Koss of Cutesy but not Cutesy, Chelsea Bloxsom of Love and a Sandwich, and Sharon Baldwin of Pepper Stitches. Another of my favorite artists curated the exhibition: Tobiah P. Mundt of Licorice Tree. Sculpting creatures named “Octobunny,” “Madame Hoof-n-Foots,” and “Ulric: Sexy Beast” from felted wool, Mundt gives her creations a dissonant combination of innocence and eeriness that I loved. Mundt, an architect by profession, has been needle felting for two years, and her work can be seen in the upcoming Seattle show Plush You.

Written by: Meg Rayford, October 2nd 2009

Clit Fest (8/7/2009)

admin — Thu, 03 Sep 2009 18:22:00 +0000

Chuco’s Justice Center

Inglewood, California

Clit Fest Los Angeles: It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. I didn’t know what to expect leading up to the event, which featured bands and documentaries on day one and workshops and more bands on days two and three. I obsessed about it for weeks: what if the ladies present thought I wore too much makeup and perfume; what if they were feminists that looked down upon that kind of thing? How would they treat the male friend accompanying me? Would he feel unwelcome? And lastly, the proverbial Los Angeles question: What if we couldn’t find parking?

The quick rundown: No one gave a shit about how I looked, there were other lovely men at day one, and parking was a cinch because there were only about thirty-five people in attendance at the beginning of the night. According to the event’s founders, Clit Fest is a national event dedicated to “womyn,” which they characterize as those born or self-identified as female, queer, gender non-conforming, trans, and people/youth of color. I guess it’s fair to say that women’s rights are really human rights in the eyes of the organizers. The grassroots event aims to promote self sustainability, community, consciousness, and a safe space for all marginalized people. That’s all well and good, but I had some issues with the event.

I often grapple with whether or not I should be critical of an event put on by other feminists in an effort to bring people together, share ideas, and have discussions. It reminds me of a conversation I had with another woman about the presidential elections. She was horrified to learn I was voting for Obama instead of Clinton. She kept saying, “But she’s a woman! She’s a democratic woman! Why the hell wouldn’t you give her your vote?” I’m of the opinion that it’s a step in the wrong direction to vote for a woman simply because she’s a woman. This is very similar to the way that I’m not going to praise an event for and by feminists (not even one called Clit Fest) just because it’s put on for and by “womyn.” If it’s bad, it’s bad—and I, somewhat regretfully, must call bullshit.

The MC for the night, Vanessa Marin, introduced three documentaries whose sum total lasted no longer than thirty minutes. They appeared to have been made by very inexperienced people because they lacked meaning, context, focus (both literal focus—as in they were blurry and hurt my eyes—and focus as in, “what the fuck is the point of this thing?), and a lot of other necessary elements that make a successful documentary.

I stood around after the films ended feeling odd, uncomfortable, and unsure about whether or not this event was really meaningful. Maybe I’d grown old and jaded. (My friend and I felt like the oldest people there—and we are not old.) Maybe I lacked the optimism I once had that would have told me this event was important and meaningful and necessary. Marin instructed everyone to sign a wall covered in a large piece of paper. “Tell someone about your shitty day, teach someone three chords, it doesn’t matter. Just leave proof that you were here tonight,” Marin said. I didn’t sign the wall.

Fifteen-year-old Tina had spiky boy hair and wore a cardigan with a Bikini Kill patch. She'd written “pro-choice” all over her backpack. Maybe she would have loved watching performances by her high school heroes Naked Aggression, or even the newly formed Adelitas, Punch, Bruise Violet, Rabia Al Systema, and Los Sangronas y el Cabron, and thought it to be revolutionary. But twenty-four-year-old Tina—who must worry about paying bills, who will no longer have health insurance in a month, who obsesses over the nightly news, who has deadlines and personal problems and heartache—didn’t stay for all the bands. She only stayed the first, which featured a tall, gangly boy wearing a dress. This older version of Tina didn’t think Clit Fest was enough.

I don’t think it’s revolutionary to be a girl in a punk band. I don’t think calling something “Clit Fest” makes it a feminist event. I no longer understand the importance of having a scene. I think girls shouldn’t just strive to form girl bands, but rather be girls in good bands. I think Kurt Cobain wore dresses nearly twenty years ago, and it’s no longer a shocking sight. I think Clit Fest lacked the maturity, the organization, and the eloquence to be meaningful.

My friend Ernie and I stood around watching the band when I heard a girl yell to her friend, “What’s with all the gutter punks here tonight?” I looked over at a young man, smelling of the street, and standing there in his bare, dirty feet. Once away from the noise of Chuco’s Justice Center, Ernie said appearing barefoot in public "just wasn’t sanitary," and it was at that moment I realized I really am just too fucking old for Clit Fest—because I agreed with him adamantly.

Written by: Tina Vasquez, September 3rd 2009