identity politics

Queer Ecologies: Sex, Nature, Politics, Desire

andrea — Wed, 05 Jan 2011 08:00:00 +0000

Edited by Bruce Erickson, Catriona Mortimer-Sandilands

Queer Ecologies: Sex, Nature, Politics, Desire explores the intersections of queer studies and environmental studies and aims to trouble dominant discourses of nature and sexuality. The authors in this collection argue that we should adopt a queer ecological perspective, a “transgressive and historically relevant critique of dominant pairings of nature and environment with heteronormativity and homophobia.” Drawing on science studies, environmental history, queer geography, ecocriticism, critical race theory, cultural studies, landscape ecology, and LGBTQ theory, this interdisciplinary anthology presents the various possibilities for “queering ecology and greening queer politics.”

What do queer ecologies and greener queer politics look like? To answer this question, the essays use various theoretical and methodological strategies to explore how understandings of nature shape discourses of sexuality and how understandings of sex and reproduction shape perceptions and uses of the environment.

The chapters delve into topics as diverse as animal sexuality, hermaphrodite frogs, eco-porn, biophilia, lesbian rural communities, pollution and overpopulation, and penguins as environmental icons. Several themes weave throughout the entire collection, including critical analyses of homophobic and racist evolutionary narratives and the ways that particular spaces become imbued with sexual meanings. Overall, Queer Ecologies critiques the heteronormative, racist, nationalist, and colonialist narratives that structure popular environmentalist discourses.

The volume approaches these issues through three sections. In the first part, "Against Nature? Queer Sex, Queer Animality," the authors examine how sexual natures are produced through dichotomies such as animal/human and nature/culture. These essays argue that the question is not whether queer acts are “unnatural,” but rather how definitions of nature and culture (and the boundaries between them) are produced and mobilized.

The second section of the book, "Green, Pink, and Public: Queering Environmental Politics," explores the intersections of sexuality and nature as sites of engaged political action. These contributions critique the heteronormativity and whiteness of environmental politics and offer possibilities for radical ecologies and sexual environmental justice.

The final part of the book, "Desiring Nature: Queer Attachments," speaks to the pleasures and losses of engaging with the “more than human” world. The authors in this section explore the links between the regulation of sexuality and the destruction of non-human life. One of the most profound essays in the collection is by editor Catriona Mortimer-Sandilands, who writes on the subject of mourning in queer writing about nature. Drawing on a politicized melancholic sensibility from lesbian and gay experiences of AIDS, she attempts a queer re-thinking of environmental destruction, arguing that few, if any public rituals exist to express mourning over the loss of the environment.

Overall, this collection moves forward conversations in queer and environmental literatures, and makes important connections between discourses of sexuality and nature that offer promising possibilities for productive political coalitions and more critical theories. While the authors are careful to note the materiality of bodies and spaces, the volume relies predominantly on textual analysis. The authors examine familiar cultural texts such as mainstream movies like Brokeback Mountain and Happy Feet, popular documentaries like An Inconvenient Truth, and the poetry of Adrienne Rich and Minnie Bruce Pratt.

Readers will come away from Queer Ecologies: Sex, Nature, Politics, Desire with a complex understanding of the dangerous assumptions that shape environmental discourses, as well as the importance of environmental considerations to queer theorizing and movement building. The queer ecological framework offered in this collection has valuable insights for readers across a broad spectrum of interests.

Written by: Traci Yoder, January 5th 2011

Encarnación: Illness and Body Politics in Chicana Feminist Literature

admin — Thu, 22 Apr 2010 16:01:00 +0000

By Suzanne Bost

Fordham University Press

The pockmarks on the Aztec figure on the cover of Suzanne Bost’s Encarnación: Illness and Body Politics in Chicana Feminist Literature are a reminder of the proximity of disease, illness, and pain to death. Chicana artist Maya González’ painting is in fact entitled Death Enthroned, and serves as a constant thematic backdrop to Bost’s book since it embodies many of the themes that Bost will deal with in her study of Chicana feminist literature: Aztec culture, illness, death, religion, and woman’s precarious position in the intersection of these elements.

Bost’s study is not the first to examine Chicana feminist literature, as many readers will note (many such studies have been reviewed by FR). In effect, the three authors Bost chooses to analyse are part of the established cannon of Chicana literature, with Gloria Anzaldúa being the face of said literature with twice as many critical articles written on her (over 200 in the MLA directory as of April 1, 2010). Both of the other writers, Cherríe Moraga and Ana Castillo, have also established themselves in the last twenty years or so. All three have been studied within other “literary labels,” such as Queer Studies for Cherríe Moraga and Ecocriticism for Ana Castillo, for example.

Separately, all three authors have been examined under the relatively new label of Disability Studies, but the intersection of Disability Studies with Chicana Feminist Literary Studies is a novelty, which Bost (and other academics) sees as appealing. In the contextualization of her analysis, Bost finds it fitting to differentiate studies on the Female Body (which have been done for each of the writers mentioned) with Disability. This is perhaps one of the most interesting theoretical parts of her analysis since the line separating the two is very fine: pain, illness, and disability are all part of the bodily construction and seem inseparable. Thus, Bost’s analysis is enlightening as to what exactly is new in her approach: a Chicana identity rooted in the body, but which transcends it, as her use of the Spanish term encarnación (incarnation) in the title signals both a figurative and literal embodiment. Bost specifically writes that she is interested in “the ways in which other corporeal qualities—ones that are not genetic, visible, or already politically inscribed as an assumed axis of oppression/privilege—upend the familiar forms of identity.”

Before moving to individual chapters examining each author, Bost explores the context of identity and grounds Chicana identity in the Aztec traditions. The author is very thorough in her reminder of all the Aztec symbolism throughout the four chapters and, for those of us who need a refresher, there is an abundance of useful information. What Bost terms as a hagiographic (reverential towards the religious figures) study of Aztec culture is also useful in that it establishes an unconventional (read non-Christian) relationship to pain, illness, death, and their relationship to representation in that tradition. Furthermore, in this chapter Bost chooses to iconize Frida Kahlo as one of the central contextualizing figures for the Chicana disability studies as she epitomizes both analytical elements, as well as being a significant influence on all three authors.

All three chapters on the individual authors are well written and quite detailed. However, one can but lament the fact that Bost did not take the opportunity to write a proper conclusion to her study (one that would have reiterated the more direct links between the writers and come to some consensus about the use of Disability Studies as a useful tool to examine Chicana Feminist Literature). Although I personally find her introduction of the Chicana artists Maya González and Diane Gamboa in her conclusion to be fascinating and informative, it is Chicana Feminist Literature that her study chooses to focus on, and it would have been interesting to see if Bost had found relevant links to other Chicana writers. With the prominence of the Chicana women artists and the inclusion of the twelve beautiful color plates in her book, it is almost fitting to suggest that the book be renamed Encarnación: Illness and Body Politics in Chicana Feminist Representation.

Written by: Sophie M. Lavoie, April 22nd 2010

American Catfight: Political Wisdom for Women and Other Thoughts Towards Feminine Statecraft in the 21st Century

admin — Wed, 17 Mar 2010 16:01:00 +0000

By Maryann Breschard

52 Women

The biggest obstacle to women, according to Maryann Breschard, is other women. In American Catfight, Breschard posits that even the best-intentioned feminists have, along the way, exploited and undermined other women in their mad dash to power.

Breschard identifies several types of women who prevent other women from succeeding: haters (those who disempower and disenfranchise women they believe are “wrong” or “bad”), perfectionists (women who write off anyone who does not fit their narrowly-defined model of the “right” woman), and femamentalists (women who believe feminism is a “big tent” theory that should advocate for a wide range of issues, including LGBT rights, the environment, and more). Breschard primarily uses anecdotal evidence to support her definitions and observations, bouncing from a rant about Martha Stewart on one page to a critique of the Human Rights Campaign the next.

She then pivots to another modern-day catfight among women in her critique of the wedding-industrial complex. Commenting that, “many women today are similarly fraught about their identity and their dreams when entering marriage,” she suggests that women put away issues of identity and concern for feminist politics upon getting married. This change in priorities—which she dubs femipause—creates divisions and downright hostility between married women and single women. This is a point where in-depth research or quantitative data would have helped flesh out Breschard’s writing and lend a sense of credibility to her work. Instead, Breschard’s anecdotal stories of friends who have gotten married and become disengaged from her social circle do little to build out the concept of femipause or position herself as an authority in her writing.

The book concludes by stating that women are “poised to govern” in the twenty-first century, and Breschard provides several recommendations for feminists looking to do so. Some—like her recommendation that feminists simplify and focus upon certain core elements of feminism—are littered throughout her book and should come as no surprise to the reader. Others—such as putting more women in governorships across the country—are legitimately insightful, but come out of left field.

Ultimately, American Catfight is marred by its inability to synthesize the various political theories, pop culture musings, and personal ramblings of the author into a piece of writing that informs and engages the reader.

Written by: Gwen Emmons, March 17th 2010

make/shift: feminisms in motion (Issue 5)

admin — Tue, 11 Aug 2009 17:04:00 +0000

Edited by Daria Yudacufski, Jessica Hoffmann

I am a magazine junkie, so much so that I look forward to spending time in airport terminals, subway cars, and doctor’s offices just to feed my addiction. My drugs of choice—US Weekly, Elle Décor, and Gourmet—don’t exactly resonate with my daily experience as a feminist, vegetarian writing a philosophy-heavy dissertation about performance art in a cramped Brooklyn apartment. Perhaps it’s this disconnect that I find appealing, as I escape into the worlds of Jon & Kate Plus 8, this season’s must have lawn accessories, and sausage on the grill. Reading make/shift represented an entirely different—if equally seductive—journey, one in which my activist and intellectual life was reflected on the page.

The magazine, published biannually in March and September, is more an academic journal than Bust or Venus but just as clever and far more relevant (to me, at least). make/shift both reports on and seeks to generate culture and action by fostering an expansive feminist dialogue. It features events (El Mundo Zurdo: Gloria Anzaldúa Conference), performers (Good Asian Drivers), and stories (sexual violence within activist scenes; celebrating the other F word—fat; and queer labor politics) that might be deemed uncool or unmarketable in another feminist publication.

Instead of hawking DIY cutesy crap and indie fashion make/shift features a regular column by Mattilda Bernstein Sycamore (author and editor of Nobody Passes and That’s Revolting) and punk rock activist Nomy Lamm as a Dear Abby. I especially enjoyed the “Letter from the Editors,” in which Daria Yudacufski and Jessica Hoffmann critique the economic growth model of publishing success and articulate alternate forms of sustainability for make/shift. Rather than “building up” the magazine (increasing print run or online presence), the editors are “building out”—reaching across divergent communities to create a heterogeneous dialogue and vision of feminism.

Photo credit: My Ecdysis

Written by: Jeanne Vaccaro, August 11th 2009

Old World Daughter, New World Mother

admin — Sat, 18 Jul 2009 09:28:00 +0000

By Maria Laurino

WW Norton

Taking us from her childhood to the present, Maria Laurino explores what it’s like to be an Italian American woman through the lens of identity, feminism, ethnicity, motherhood, pregnancy, and economics in Old World Daughter, New World Mother_. Laurino unveils the restrictions she faced as a feminist daughter, as well as all that a traditionally Italian upbringing entails. We learn of her severely over-protective mother who gets up at dawn to make the day’s meals, how this mamma’s_ actions and attitudes have rippled across the pond of Laurino’s life, and why this mamma did not serve as a role model for her daughter because she remained stuck within an ever “motherly” and self-effacingly sacrificial role.

This theme of sacrificial motherhood is ubiquitous in the book, and Laurino later ties it in to her deep analysis of feminism and motherhood in America today. In a way, Laurino’s story is epic because it is both personal and boundless. At least part of her story—her thoughts and feelings about life lived through the stark lens of feminism—will resonate with most readers. While Laurino is fond of details her humanity broadens their reach, which is precisely what makes this book so touching, graceful, and important.

Laurino shares the connections that she forms with herself and everyone around her, even when they’re not reciprocated. There is enough intimate divulgence to let us perceive our narrator’s sensitivity in the face of a callous world, and we see strength inhabit Laurino as she surpasses obstacles to evolve into the writer who lived to tell the tale. As I read, I truly marveled at the uninhibited candor and courage stemming from this person who is, in the end, so much like each of us.

This book deals largely with “reconstructive feminism” or “family humanism.” Laurino explores ways in which feminism can approach class and economic equality, mitigate the difficulties of working-class parents (women in particular), and deconstruct the myth of independence anchored in American culture that leads mothers to make false choices about their careers. When she interviews Nidia, a working-class mother who lacked the opportunity to get to know her children because she had to work (with no benefits, minimal vacation time, and no flexibility to even use an office phone to call home and check that her children had gotten home safely from school) an embarrassed Laurino if Nidia is a feminist or supports the movement: “’Let me see,’ [Nidia] replied with a sly smile, ‘is that when women fought for the right to employment?’”

Essentially, Laurino believes it imperative that the “two strands of the women’s movement—one that sought to protect women’s interests as wives and mothers, the other that fought for universal human rights—converge once again.” She affirms there need not be contradiction in a “feminist motherhood agenda,” which would serve us all—mothers and otherwise—supremely well. Laurino introduces ideas for legislation to guide us in moving forward that utilizes cultural perspectives inspired by her Italian upbringing. She also suggests actions we can take right now.

Appropriately, this book has reminded me that we are all linked together. We all matter because we are all riding the same wave of life, as Laurino likes to say, and injustice against one will duly impact everyone riding it—and so will compassion. This is a memoir that cruises through politics, ethnicity, motherhood, and identity politics while pulling the reader back into the palpability of these encompassing themes.

Old World Daughter, New World Mother is an important and potentially paradigm-shattering book with a lot to offer feminists, especially to those privileged enough to get their hands on it. As Laurino walks us through her deconstruction of myths, prejudices, and familial ingrained ideas, her concepts breathe a tender and brave vitality onto us, and stretches our minds to blur misconceptions about motherhood, ethnicity, class, the economy, and feminism itself.

This book is nourishment. Don’t miss it.

Written by: Natalia Real, July 18th 2009

The Woman In The Zoot Suit: Gender, Nationalism, and the Cultural Politics of Memory

admin — Fri, 22 May 2009 17:35:00 +0000

By Catherine S. Ramirez

Duke University Press

I have always associated the zoot suit with Cab Calloway and the big band, jazz, and swing era. Never did it occur to me that this type of suit would be the focal point of a movement or two, faceously put. I also thought the trend of wearing loose clothing, as an act of rebellion, was taken from the prison population in which the usage of belts was not allowed. Little did I know how central it was to the Mexican American identity, from the 1930s leading up to the Chicano movement.

Catherine S. Ramirez’ The Woman in the Zoot Suit, brings the reader to another place in American history that leaves us to question, yet again, who we chose to leave out, as valuable contributors to this heterogeneous anomaly we call a country. Pachucas and Pachucos were Mexican American women and men, respectively, who wore zoot suits during the 1930s, 1940s, and 1950s as part of the Pachuquismo subculture.

For the Pachuca, the zoot suit was a central part of the subculture and consisted of a cardigan or V-neck sweater, pleated skirt, fishnet stockings, platform heels, dark lipstick, and foam inserts to lift the hair into a high bouffant. They were often second-generation children of Mexicans who immigrated to the United States, during World War II, to find work, education, and better lives for themselves and their families. Many Mexican American youths around that time were not part of the Pachuquismo subculture, but readily identified with the ideals of a rejection of the racism, classicism, and sexism perpetrated against them. In a way, Pachucas were considered as much outsiders as the aforementioned because of history’s neglect to include them in such an integral part of the Mexican American history they helped create.

Ramirez explains how the Sleepy Lagoon incident (which is, by itself, necessary of further research) and the Zoot Suit Riots thrust the Pachuca into the search for an identity within her own culture. Pachucas were forced between the rock of an outside prejudice, and a hard place that came in the form of a prejudice within the subculture they could most easily identify with. In a subculture in which they could contribute the most, they were often relegated to the forgotten, because of the role they were expected to fill as the quiet, unassuming Mexican housewife and mother.

Ramirez presents the unique history of the Mexican American Pachuca, whose situation takes into account the religious, gender, and non-U.S.-born ramifications that they inherited. Not only did they have to fight against the politics of a racist, sexist society alongside the Pachucos, but they also had to fight the misogynistic politics of their brethren from within. Ramirez presents a well documented and informative work on the Pachuca, thus helping to bring us out of our culturally-induced slumber.

Written by: Olupero R. Aiyenimelo, May 22nd 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

Feminist and Queer Performance: Critical Strategies

admin — Thu, 30 Apr 2009 16:35:00 +0000

By Sue-Ellen Case

Palgrave MacMillan

Feminist and Queer Performance is a collection of eleven previously published essays by Sue-Ellen Case, a Professor of Theatre and Critical Studies at UCLA. Exploring topics as diverse as butch-femme aesthetics, cyber-minstrelsy, W.O.W. Café, and performance artists Kate Bornstein, Annie Sprinkle, and Split Britches; Feminist and Queer Performance illustrates the history and breadth of Case’s scholarship and sustained engagement with feminist politics and lesbian cultures. In her introduction Case describes the intellectual and political “climate changes” that influenced her thinking about identity and performance. This personal narrative also functions as a history lesson, tracing the evolution of Case’s writing from 1989-2007—when the essays were originally published in various journals and anthologies—and her emerging interest in self-representation, bodily knowledge, and new technologies.

Case is invested in methodological forms that challenge the “objective” and universalizing voice of history–such as performative language and identificatory speech (“I” statements). She argues for writing practices that disrupt the unmarked, patriarchal voice of research, and embarks on a journey to find a “lesbian voice.” In fact, Case compares writing lesbian theory to hanging out in lesbian bars. In “Making Butch: An Historical Memoir of the 1970s,” she evokes the first-person to produce a campy critique of masculinity. Case foregrounds “everyday” performances like bar culture, clothing, and attitude to theorize lesbian culture and identity, especially butch-femme aesthetics.

The voice of Feminist and Queer Performance is an inviting one–curious, self-reflexive, and hopeful. Case is no doubt committed to bridging the divide between theoretical language and political praxis, and easily mixes anecdote and activism into her scholarship. Although not exactly “jargon” free, Feminist and Queer Performance is accessible to a diverse readership. It’s essential reading for burlesque dancers, radical cheerleaders, drag kings, and anyone else interested in the performance of feminist and queer politics.

Written by: Jeanne Vaccaro, April 30th 2009

Latino Politics: Identity, Mobilization and Representation

admin — Mon, 09 Feb 2009 02:08:00 +0000

Edited by Rodolfo Espino, David L. Leal, Kenneth J. Meier

University of Virginia Press

This book is a major contribution to the history of Latino politics in the United States. It is an indispensable reference for historians, economists, and political scientists, as well as any serious reader interested in the Latino political situation in the U.S.

At its core is a series of five parts: each of them consists of approximately three essays that give a thorough analysis of such themes as identity politics, political action and public opinion, coalitional politics, political representation, and the future of Latino politics. Latinos have not yet attained full representation within U.S. politics, just as they haven't achieved full equality in American society.

Citing the constant growth of the Latino population in the U.S. (35.3 million in 2000), and its numerous complexities and diversities, the fundamental question of Latino political identities are reconstructed for the purpose of various political organizations. David Leal moves the focus from group identities to individual identities. He explores the concept of "Latino public opinion" and if it does, in fact, exists in the U.S.

In the following section, Michael Jones-Correa explores the relevant approaches to the understanding of the Latino political experience from the ethnic, transnational and immigrant perspectives. The dominant attitude that prevails amongst political scientists is to treat Latinos as mere observers in ethnic politics in the U.S., Jones-Correa argues.

The essay by Luis Fraga and Sharon Navarro on Latino politics in terms of gender politics is of major importance. The descriptive differences between Latino men and Latina women are well delineated. For example, Latina heads of households are less likely to vote that their males counterparts. Also, patterns of both gender and ethnic representation vary considerably by state. California leads with 23%, the largest representation of Latina women; Texas has the lowest representation, 21%.

Latina feminists have organized numerous regional and national conferences to address their concerns; first wave feminists incorporated issues of race, class and gender by addressing experiences of poor working class Mexican women. Second wave feminists focus on labour movements. One of the first national labour figures of Mexican descent was Lucy Eldine González. Most historians list her as a Mexican Indian. In the history of labour movement, there were some extraordinary women leaders living at the beginning of the twentieth century, such as Luisa Capetillo (1880-1922), Concepción Torres and Juana Colón. They opened the possibilities for Latinas' further work against traditional patriarchy. Even though Latina women have not yet played a major role in politics, it has begun to change.

In the next chapter, the writers focus on the political identities of the Latino and comparisons of Latino political actions. Matt Barreto explores the characteristics of candidates that affect Latinos’ voting habits and Ricardo Ramírez analyzes the characteristics of the Latino population that shapes the choices of political candidates. Louis DeSipio and Adrian Pantoja compare issues of identity within Latino subpopulations, for example, comparing Puerto Ricans with Mexicans and Salvadorans.

Essays in section four examine the political representation of Latinos in a variety of institutional settings. For example, Espino focuses on Latinos’ representation by Latinos members in the U.S. Congress; Jason Casellas studies the representation of Latinos in the U.S. House of Representatives. Eric Gonzalez-Juenke examines their representation in local educational systems while Nick Theobald looks at the degree of responsiveness to politics amongst the Latino population.

The last section, in which Valerie Martinez-Ebers and Manuel Avalos examine the implications for the future of Latino politics opens the area by academic scholars future research.

This latest study of Latino politics is comprehensive and illuminating. It also advances our understanding of the Latinos issues in the U.S.

Written by: Anna Hamling, February 8th 2009

Power Lines: On the Subject of Feminist Alliances

admin — Fri, 26 Dec 2008 11:13:00 +0000

By Aimee Carrillo Rowe

Duke University Press

In the past year, I’ve noticed a trend towards bashing the contemporary Women’s Studies programs of U.S. universities. Mostly, I’ve heard critiques of this brand of academic feminism coming from (perhaps not surprisingly) communities of radical feminists, many of whom do not identify as scholars bound by an institution or a set of initials after their names. Myself both in the radical feminist category and also the past recipient of a gendered bachelor’s degree, I can sympathize with the range of emotions this topic can elicit. Academic feminism is known to be heteronormative, able-bodied, overwhelmingly white, and preoccupied with the concerns of middle class women. Yet academic feminists also hold considerable power—institutional power—and like it or not, that weight can benefit untold women around the world if we harness the opportunities this visibility can provide.

In Power Lines, Aimee Carrillo Rowe invites us to first examine those literal devices. Sometimes strung across major traffic intersections, sometimes buried for miles, power lines are agents of connectivity. In the same way, feminist alliances—specifically transracial ones—are our conduits of strength. The ways that feminists form alliances can reinforce and reproduce existing power structures, and drawing on nearly thirty conversations with self-styled academic feminists engaged in transracial coalition building, Carrillo Rowe examines how these alliances can be built, sustained, and the reasons why they fail.

Identity politics can be rocky terrain—commendably informative, guilt inducing, and sometimes damaging for all if not pursued with humility and compassion—but Carrillo Rowe argues that feminist alliances across individual boundaries can provide a sense of belonging, herself a living example of overlapping and conflicting identities: “a queer woman of Mexican, Anglo, and Franco descent, raised in a middle-class military family in Southern California.” Now an Associate Professor at The University of Iowa (disclosure: the very university where I received the aforementioned degree), Carrillo Rowe is in the unique position of navigating her existing identities while adding an additional label: academic. But from within the ivory tower, her voice articulates how we can move beyond the frustration of one-dimensional education and into a better space to most effectively benefit the most women through our varied positions, inside and outside of academia.

Scholars who revere Chela Sandoval and Gayatri Spivak will find another kindred researcher in their midst—assuming, of course, that they didn’t already know and lovingly consume Carrillo Rowe’s work. This examination of race, class, academic feminist theory, and transracial parternships will inform the future of disciplines ranging from rhetoric to social work. Using philosophy and feminist theory, this complex analysis will inspire the apathetic and cynical to reexamine the value of academic feminism.

Written by: Brittany Shoot, December 26th 2008

Sisterhood Interrupted: From Radical Women to Girls Gone Wild

admin — Mon, 17 Sep 2007 11:45:00 +0000

By Deborah Seigel

Palgrave MacMillan

As if we needed more proof of the very existence of feminism—and how it has been interpreted through the mainstream culture—Deborah Seigel has handed us a history lesson wrapped in a hot pink love letter. In her nonfiction book, Sisterhood Interrupted, Seigel imparts that not only has feminism had its mis-steps, it's fallen clear away from its foundation. But maybe that foundation needs a shake.

Don't misunderstand me: Seigel's words aren't an attack on the "f-word." Rather, she's building that tenuous bridge between the young and seemingly unmotivated, feminists and their burnt-out mothers. As a twenty-six-year-old, self-identified woman in America, I can look around and see where the American feminist movement has failed my generation more than I can see it's successes, at times. And that's where Seigel makes her best historical point. I, with all my privilege, have the power of choice based on the historical outcomes of the movement. And I have feminists—past and present—to thank for that choice.

Sisterhood Interrupted is a quick and exciting read; Seigel exposes knowledge on where (and why) the movement split, between the more highly profiled Betty Freidan and Gloria Steinem, as well as the justification for retiring some words, like, "sisterhood." "But now I realize that sisterhood is phony. Even when there's consensus, there isn't," says Amy Richards, co-author of ManifestA, in a conversation with Seigel. "I think younger women have a better sense that it is a big façade." This 'façade' is not a backlash, or an attempt to dis-empower feminism, it's just a reality of the movement. We're not sisters based on gender alone or simply based on feminist history. I believe opening the discussion to a few things that have been deemed ‘sacred’ isn't such a terrible thing at all.

Written by: Courtney Ham, September 17th 2007

Emergency Contact

admin — Mon, 07 May 2007 01:36:00 +0000

By Tara-Michelle Ziniuk

McGilligan Books

If there is a politic of poetry at stake in Emergency Contact, it stems as much from the a politicized urban landscape, as it does from the poetic representation of that setting. Against the familiar backdrop of a neighbourhood in the process of an irrevocable gentrification, Ziniuk records the objects, people and small hi-stories―perhaps otherwise unregistered―of Toronto’s west end neighbourhood Parkdale. This is not nostalgia for an idea of authenticity via poverty, but a poetic document that condemns both the past ―remembering “the holiday season when the notorious…landlords” abandoned “31 floors of families without heat or electricity for almost a week”―and the future, symbolized by the novelty shop that sells “$30 felt-letter shirts claiming “Parkdale is for Lovers.” Without an acceptable past or future, Ziniuk carves out a space in the present to search for something “more long-term than Emergency,” something that is markedly aware of the problems of contingent plans and temporary solutions (“I live my life in increments./ Trish says we should stop that.”)

Collected into four parts, this is poetry to be reckoned with. It tackles political themes like poverty, gentrification, mental illness, gender and substance abuse through a ferociously poetic vision that handles themes of love, loss and identity with as much conviction. Participating in those age-old questions about the social and political obligations of poetry, Ziniuk reminds us that “people who decide their politics are also, usually also/ the ones to leave them,” and that “anarchy is not inherently against love.”

This is poetry as the expression of a personal politics that won’t allow itself the complacency of obvious definitions yet still grants us “our distinct ability to identify one another.” The question Ziniuk seems to ask is “based on what?” The politics presented in this collection resist the facility of either/or definitions and refuse a homogeneous signification of identity even (and especially) if identity politics is central.

Idealism ends fast. I am peeling stickers that say 'Feminists Fuck Better' and 'Violence Against Women, No Excuse' off my coffee table. Not that I don’t still believe it, I just don’t need the stickers anymore.

This reluctance to buy into the rhetoric of stickers, trademarked revolutions and marketing ploys rather than the substance of a political position has particular importance at the local sex worker drop-in centre, where Jane Doe is “not here simply for the good of/ the hookers.” Rather she is a “confident, capital ‘F’ feminist, card-carrying” utterly different from the girls living “outside the system without/a card to say they’ve politics, or a joke to explain/ themselves with” and utterly foreign to the poet and politics defined by Emergency Contact.

Written by: Kate Morris, May 6th 2007

Greenzine #14

admin — Thu, 15 Mar 2007 18:21:00 +0000

By Christy C. Road

Microcosm Publishing

Any radical unfamiliar with the art and writing of Christy C. Road by now should check this out, in addition to visiting her website at http://www.croadcore.org to get caught up. That being said, everyone already acquainted will know what to expect with Greenzine #14, but this proves to be a good thing. This issue explores similar themes present throughout her work in a classic Road fashion - namely, the musings of a queer Latina feminist deconstructing identity, her love/hate relationship with Miami and moving from her hometown, orgasms and the personal being political.

Written like a journal, you almost feel like you stumbled upon something private that you shouldn’t be reading, but can’t stop because it’s so damn gritty and real. Prominently displayed between entries are her signature drawings of friends, punk rock kids, social issues and, of course, making out. These serve more as snapshots than illustrations, as anyone who has seen them on everything from show fliers to the pages of Jane _magazine knows. I can’t recommend this enough to anyone who sounds interested already. When you’re done, pick up her latest book, _Indestructible (also reviewed by Elevate Difference), which was originally meant to be Greenzine #15, but ended up its own entity.

Written by: Janine Ohnoski, March 15th 2007

Trans/forming Feminisms: Trans-Feminist Voices Speak Out

admin — Fri, 19 Jan 2007 13:06:00 +0000

Edited by Krista Scott-Dixon

Sumach Press

Krista Scott-Dixon’s collection, Trans/forming Feminisms: Transfeminist Voices Speak Out blending gender theory and a remarkable range of personal narratives, provides a powerful, complex and deeply moving introduction to a relatively neglected and misunderstood area of feminist study: the experiences, gendered multiplicity, personal and social struggles, and the touching humanity of people identified—for lack of a better term—as trans.

The book thoroughly explodes the dualistic conception of gender, reviews research into the “constructedness” of our gendered identities and demonstrates dramatically some of the diverse ways in which gender is made manifest. Carefully produced and edited, Trans/forming Feminisms ought to be snatched up by women’s and gender studies instructors—it will be a terrific addition to introductory classes, but it should also resonate with all of those who are willing to entertain the idea that the human world is not divided tidily into female and male.

Like many scholars who see critical theory as a central part of their professional mission, the editor invokes bell hooks’ understanding of theory as a “location for healing.” To theorize trans identity and experience is to take steps towards challenging oppression, towards understanding and complicating a central part of our identities. She rejects a facile embrace of trans identity among non-trans sympathizers (“it’s hip to be trans; maybe I’m trans, too”), and the narratives are as painful as they are celebratory.

The legal and ethical issues the book raises such as events and organizations with “womyn-born womyn only” policies or “no penis” policies similarly resist easy answers or sloganeering, but reveal the complex and uncertain alliance between self-described feminists and trans people. Just how inclusive have feminist organizations been? Can exclusivity be a legitimate strategy?

The terms used to categorize different identities, different understandings of sexual selves, are messy, overlapping, ambiguous—an indication that the theory is new, and that exploration of trans experience is still in its formative stages. While metaphors such as gender-bending or a gendered continuum have been useful constructs, names for the wide variety of gendered expression can be baffling: genderqueers, birls, FTMs and MTFs—the categorical language seems inadequate. And yet labels, however damaging they can be in one sense, afford a kind of group identity and can have explanatory and healing power. Dixon’s book might be the most accessible and potentially influential treatment this subject has yet received.

Written by: Rick Taylor, January 19th 2007

Mo’ Mega

admin — Tue, 21 Nov 2006 13:05:00 +0000

By Mr. Lif

Definitive Jux

At first listen Mo’ Mega’s bellicose sound seems somewhat uninviting. I thought it so heavy handed that it lost intricacy. I was wrong. Everything is intentional, from aggressive baselines to biting political criticism to the frustrated laments of a hardworking emcee. Lif’s lyrics aren’t afraid to get dirty, whether by treading on the Bush administration or describing the sexual exploits of a much-anticipated rendezvous. He isn’t sugarcoating anything, but then again has Lif ever? Mo’ Mega hosts a few guests, namely Aesop Rock, Blueprint, and Murs, with 8 tracks produced by El-P. Overall, El-P is effective to say the least. He splices gritty industrial sound with rock accents and heavy, driving beats. However, though his sound is unique, it becomes somewhat uniform from track to track. Where he really shines is on "Brothaz" and "The Fries." Decidedly, the most interesting song on the album, "Brothaz" combines searing accusations concerning the social conditioning of young black males and an absolutely ridiculous beat. Often times loaded lyrics are reserved for more minimal tracks, but these rhymes could cut glass. You’re gonna hear ‘em whether they’re spit over Beethoven’s 5th or a jack in the box. Lif once again asserts himself as one of the most informed and talented emcees out there. "The Fries" dictates the deterioration of our fast food nation, gruesomely dramatizing our cardiological plight. Watch out for the break about two minutes in, it bangs so hard you may experience a little cardiological plight of your own.

Written by: Kristen Zwicker, November 21st 2006