Michelle C. Schaefer

Chinese American Women: A History of Resilience and Resistance

admin — Tue, 17 Feb 2009 18:38:00 +0000

The National Women's History Museum will make you say, "Wow!" or "Zounds!" or "Holy s**t, I had no idea." Whether you're an über-educated feminist or a newbie dabbler, this site will inspire your "Women rock!" soul... or rock your "Women inspire!" soul. Either way, you'll love it.

Amongst many astounding cyber exhibits lies Chinese American Women: A History of Resilience and Resistance. Fresh off the heels of reading Lisa See's Snowflower and the Secret Fan (which was set in nineteenth century China), I had to dive into this exhibit to see if escape from China was truly a way out of hierarchical obedience, or yet another road leading to torment for Chinese women. Try to guess which is true: once these immigrant women arrived in America (at a 19:1 male to female ratio), they were treated like queens and enjoyed beautiful lives—just like the immigrants who arrive in America today—or they were treated like criminals, sold into prostitution, and held in detention centers for up to two years.

Because China had a long history in mining, the gold rush in California was an inevitable draw to those who were able to escape the Guangdong Province famine and China's long string of Opium Wars. Many women suffered from disease, depression, isolation, physical disability (those "lily feet"), and severe displacement anxiety. Yet as wives, they had little choice about their journey.

The Chinese American Women exhibit is heavy on text, but includes inimitable images of early Chinese American settlers and trailblazers. It also covers the early Chinese feminist movement, beginning with the abolition of foot binding. It's important to remember that rebellious souls are not the afterthoughts of a few profound social movements. Said movements are, in fact, the result of rebellious souls, whether or not the names attached become psychological backdrops for the masses.

Take Alice Sue Fun, who traveled the world with actress Lola Fisher at a time when most Chinese American women dared not walk outside alone. America itself, though strangely persistent in its racism, wasn't entirely bad. The suffrage movement had a profound effect on the way China saw itself and its treatment of women.

The National Women's History Museum looks unflinchingly at segregation, and provides generous examples of civil disobedience, violent resistance, and as the title suggests, women's resilience. Of course, it does not ignore the degenerative effects of a patriarchal world culture. Confucius, for example, was a dick. Furthermore, his brain was no match for the twentieth century Chinese American women phone operators who knew, by ear, the names and numbers of 2,500 telephone subscribers. Just one of many juicy tidbits that await you at the online exhibit.

Beyond the amazing exhibit featured here, the National Women's History Museum has lots of other goodies to explore. Though it is currently an online-only museum, it is fighting for a physical space—double entendres abound. Sign the bill to make the National Women's History Museum a permanent fixture in the United States by going to their website. There, you'll find information, activism, cyber lesson plans for teachers, and even celebrity sightings.

Only one complaint: the Chinese American Women exhibit is quite a tome and there are no page numbers for reference. Don't let the length deter you, though. Almost every page offers motivating examples of wild women. The site is not ADHD-proofed for navigation, but be patient—the payoff is huge.

Oh, and that deep, welling feeling inside that makes you feel positively giddy as you stroll through the virtual exhibit? That's inspiration. If Yoke Leen can declare herself an independent woman, you can too.

Written by: Michelle C. Schaefer, February 17th 2009

Bam Bam and Celeste

admin — Thu, 12 Jul 2007 17:38:00 +0000

Directed by Lorene Machado

Wolfe Video

Antithetical to the laugh-so-hard-you’ll-cry theory is comedian and activist Margaret Cho, who will have you crying, hard, before making you laugh like you’ve never laughed before. In her stand-up shows, she tells achingly raw stories about the torment of growing up “different” and does so in a way that makes her the only comedian who can respond to racial slurs with “fuck you” and pull it off like the most brilliant one-liner ever. Those soul-quenching moments of sweet release don’t come as often in Bam Bam and Celeste, but hey—we finally get to see Margaret dressed up as her mother, which alone makes the film worth watching.

Bam Bam and Celeste are best friends from high school who discover they’ve become “townies.” They leave their midwestern hometown for NYC in order to face their high school nemeses on the makeover show “Trading Faces.” Many encounters—pleasant and otherwise—arise along the way.

The thing about Cho’s stand-up stories is that they are inherently unfunny. It’s her comments about the stories that are side splitting. Seeing the stories come to visual life is painful. Hate crimes just don’t translate well as “zany antics.” But Margaret Cho is still damn funny.

Bruce Daniels brings a charmingly understated quality to the outrageous Bam Bam, whose gas siphoning abilities are, um, jaw droppingly good. Bam Bam adores Celeste and thinks she’s beautiful. His innocent confusion as to why this assertion would be questioned is wonderfully sweet. I haven’t liked Alan Cumming ever since his “little league” comment on the L-Word, but he pulls off the adorably klutzy show coordinator who has a crush on Celeste.

The evil arch-nemesis Jackie (played flawlessly by Elaine Hendrix) remains painfully static and is possibly responsible for the film’s flat ending, which should be the time we stand up and cheer along with the film’s TV audience. Jackie’s comeuppance isn’t equivalent to the torment she’s distributed; furthermore, she’s more psychotic than misguided and, therefore, impervious to true retribution.

Cho fans who’ve been waiting for a full on “Mommy Cho” impression will not be disappointed. In addition to the always wonderful Cho and Daniels, campy colors and outstanding guest stars (Jane Lynch, Kathy Najimy) make this a trip worth taking. Despite the loose narrative thread and content mishaps, Bam Bam and Celeste made me laugh out loud, which is the little black dress of comedy.

Written by: Michelle C. Schaefer, July 12th 2007

Rakasa

admin — Tue, 01 May 2007 17:50:00 +0000

Directed by Iris Rubin

Go2Films

Rakasa is a documentary about the lives of three Palestinian women who dance for joy, expression and sometimes money. Certain images come to mind when an American says, “I’m a dancer.” However, the dancing found in Rakasa _(Arabic for “bellydancer”) comes from an irrepressible urge to rebel, to be free, and to be wholly and utterly a _woman in a culture that would have one deny that Goddess-given gift. This form of dancing also crosses religious barriers, bringing Israeli Jews and Arabs together to dance. For this, rakasa—and the women whose lives are shared within—should be celebrated.

What’s missing from Rakasa is solid structure and clarity of purpose. It ends up coming across as a beautiful, blurry blob; Rakasa isn’t sure if it wants to be an overcoming-oppression film, or simply a celebratory slice-of-life.

One of the women fights with her mother and grandmother over her right to dance. Another tries to overcome the apathy of her lackadaisical husband. The third, whom you might call Rakasa’s heroine, enjoys an adoring husband, her own dance studio and dancing passionately while great with child.

Director Iris Rubin chose to keep the tone light in a documentary that could have easily included cultural images of brutality against women. While I applaud Rubin’s decision to focus on the joy of dancing, the film might have revved my energetic investment had it displayed images of oppression that extended beyond irritating smotherhood.

Rubin does pepper in two cultural-context references. The first comes from clips of old TV shows depicting misogynist males. The second comes from a dancer’s advisor who reminds the dancer (frustrated by her mother’s objections to dancing) that things really are improving: after all, she says, 20 years ago, they would have killed you.

“They” are not specified, but this moment might have been Rubin’s way of saving her viewers from the very images I lament being absent. Perhaps there was no middle ground with which Rubin could work, and any accurate images of brutality would have crushed all she hoped to show: women dancing joyously.

Despite its wobbly structure, _Rakasa _is a luscious journey filled with surprising and sizzling food scenes, uber-femininity and brilliant, yummy colors that is a sensorial pleasure to watch.

Written by: Michelle C. Schaefer, May 1st 2007

Goal Dreams

admin — Mon, 05 Mar 2007 13:15:00 +0000

Directed by Maya Sanbar, Jeffrey Saunders

Arab Film Distribution

Originally projected onto the Separation Wall in Palestine/Jerusalem on the eve of the 2006 World Cup, Goal Dreams is a documentary account of the struggles the Palestine National (Football) Team faced to whip up what is so strikingly absent in Palestinian culture: hope. Even if you don’t give two stuffed grape leaves about sports, this edu-docu-drama will capture, break and embolden your heart. The sport itself is not entirely incidental, but the film is about unity amongst people who have been essentially homeless for over fifty years.

The football (that’s soccer, you know) players, all of whom have Palestinian blood, come to Egypt from around the world to play for Palestine. Goal Dreams highlights the thirty incredibly stressful days prior to the “decision match” between Palestine and Uzbekistan, which will determine who goes on to play in the World Cup.

Training camp, if it can be called that, takes place in Egypt because (in case you didn’t know) there’s political tension in Israel and Palestinian Territories. As the film observes, any discussion about Palestine becomes—inevitably—a political discussion. Goal Dreams shows-not-tells what it means to be a Palestinian today, whether in New York, Chile or Gaza. Strangely, the team’s coach is a very difficult to like Austrian named Riedl. Given to fits of brow furrows and eye rolling, Riedl yells a lot, but does little coaching.

The team’s goalkeeper, Ramzi Saleh—a distractingly beautiful Gazan Palestinian—is key in keeping our non-politically-based attention. He is a devoted husband, father, son and brother. We kind of love him for that. However, we can’t help thinking about the palpable absence of women in this story. The women we do see are wearing abayas; some are munaqqabat (women who wear niqab, a full face cover).

Additionally, one player makes a frat boy observation about Swedish girls and Riedl considers “We are looking like girls!” the ultimate insult. (The Palestinian Territories National Women’s Soccer Team might disagree.)

Maya Sanbar, a Brit with Palestinian heritage, and Jeffery Saunders, a Jewish-American, are skilled directors who keep an unflinching tone throughout the film. There is a tastefully indulgent moment at the end when a player opines, “everyone should dream because without dreaming, there is no life.” Nice by itself, but even nicer with an image of David Beckham shouting from a wall ad in the background.

Written by: Michelle C. Schaefer, March 5th 2007

Xtra Tuf No. 5: The Strike Issue

admin — Thu, 01 Mar 2007 04:30:00 +0000

By Moe Bowstern

Microcosm Publishing

This zine is such an interesting peek into the world of commercial fishing in Alaska that it’s almost possible to overlook the story’s dismissal of the gang rape incident.

Written in a style that is at once comforting and compelling, Moe Bowstern respectfully tells her story of life-as-an-Alaskan-fisherman. Xtra Tuf No. 5 takes us through the 1997 Alaskan Fisherman’s strike. It ends in 2005 with Moe coming full circle, back to her fisherman’s-soul’s life.

We’re glad she does. Moe has heart. Her allegiance to feminism is unquestionable; she talks of “dismantling the patriarchy,” she attends underground anarchist meetings and the zine itself is free to commercial fishing women. She gives nod to the linguistic debate over the term fisherman to include all, um, fisher-persons. Furthermore, she walks the walk: just how many women fishermen do you think there are, anyway?

However, there is that pesky (alleged, but you know it happened) gang rape. The victim/survivor, another female deckhand, chose not to report it—ostensibly due to her “illegal immigrant” status (she’s Australian). More likely, hers are the same reasons as any woman’s who “chooses” not to report a rape.

Nearly as horrifying as the rape itself is the reaction to it. Picnic, anyone?

Okay, so the picnic serves as a well-intentioned take action event, but make no mistake: in Alaska, during a strike, a scab is infinitely more loathed than a rapist. So much for serene sunsets and a peaceful existence. (Oh, and P.S.: vegans needn’t waste time searching for any “cruelty to fish” reference; there is none.)

Despite these subtle omissions, I still love Xtra Tuf. Read No. 5 and discover that women get hernias, hoochies aren’t just for cities anymore, and the phrase "down below" is not always accompanied with a wink and a smile. Jap-bashing, artfag deckhand and flat as piss on a plate mean anything to you? They will after you read this zine.

There is a fine line between tedious and thorough, and at times Xtra Tuf walks (or tows) that line. Cover-to-cover, it comes in at 192 pages and includes a dictionary, BBQ salmon recipe and a song about “Farmed Salmon Blues” that caps the whole thing off nicely.

Ultimately, skipping out on this zine would be unfathomable. Now put the juice to the jimmy and get reading.

Written by: Michelle C. Schaefer, March 1st 2007