Friday 26 September 2014

PARALLELS

What happens when we reframe a feminist position and apply it to racism? Why might the latter evoke so much more controversy and resistance?

Anne Theriault from The Belle Jar wrote an excellent piece that I love, "Tired of Talking to Men" about the burden of explaining feminism to men. I realized that it paralleled much of how I feel lately about explaining racism to white people, so I approached her about a racism rewrite of her piece.

Here it is, Anne's words and my rewrite (in bold):

***

I am tired of talking about feminism to men.

I am tired of talking about racism to white feminists.

I know that I’m not supposed to say this. I know that as a good little third-wave feminist I’m supposed to sweetly explain to you how much I love and value men. I’m supposed to trot out my husband of nearly five years, my son, all of my male friends and relatives and display them as a sort of badge of honour, proof that I am not a man-hater. I’m supposed to hold out my own open palms, prove to you how harmless I am, how nice I am. Above all, I’m supposed to butter you up, you men, stroke your egos, tell you how very important you are in the fight for equality. This is the right way to go about it, or so I’ve been told. As my mother would say, you catch more flies with honey.

I know I’m not supposed to say this. I know that as a good little third-wave feminist of colour I’m supposed to sweetly explain to you how much I love and value white allies. I’m supposed to trot out my white partner of nearly five years and all of my white friends and display them as a sort of badge of honour, proof that I am not a white-people hater. I’m supposed to hold out my own open palms, prove to you how harmless I am, how nice I am. After all, I’m supposed to butter you up, you white people, stroke your egos, tell you how very important you are in the fight for equality. This is the right way to go about it, or so I’ve been told. As my mother would say, you catch more flies with honey.

But still. I’m tired of talking about feminism to men.


But still. I’m tired of talking about racism to white feminists.


I’m tired of explaining to men that the feminist movement will, in fact, benefit them as well as women. I’m tired of trying to hawk gender equality like I’m some kind of car salesman showing off a shiny new sedan, explaining all of its bells and whistles. I’m tired of smiling through a thousand thoughtless microaggressions, tired of providing countless pieces of evidence, tired of being questioned on every. single. damn. thing. I’m tired of proving that microaggressions exist, tired of proving that I’m unfairly questioned and asked for proof. For a movement that’s centered around the advancement and empowerment of women, why do I feel like I’m supposed to spend so damn much of my time carefully considering how what I say and do will be taken by men?

I’m tired of explaining to white feminists that anti-racism will, in fact, benefit them as well as women of colour. I’m tired of trying to hawk racial equality like I’m some kind of car salesman showing off a shiny new sedan, explaining all of its bells and whistles. I’m tired of smiling through a thousand thoughtless microaggressions, tired of providing countless pieces of evidence, tired of being questioned on every. single. damn. thing. I’m tired of proving that microaggressions exist, tired of proving that I’m unfairly questioned and asked for proof. For a movement that’s centered around the advancement and empowerment of women, why do I feel like I’m supposed to spend so damn much of my time carefully considering how what I say and do will be taken by white feminists?

I’m tired of men who insert themselves into feminist spaces with claims of hurt feelings. I’m tired of men who somehow manage to make every issue about them. I’m tired of men like the one who recently stopped by a friend’s Facebook thread in order to call feminism “cunty,” then lecture the women involved for being too “hostile” in their responses to him. I’m tired of men telling me that my understanding of feminism and rape culture are wrong, as if these aren’t things that I have studied intensely. I’m tired of men who claim to be feminist allies, then abuse that position to their own advantage. I’m so fucking exhausted by the fact that I know that I will have to, at some point in this piece, mention that I understand that not all men are like that. I will have to note that some men are good allies. And all of those things are true! And all of you good allies get cookies! But honestly I’m tired of handing out cookies to people just because they’re being decent fucking human beings.

I’m tired of white feminists who insert themselves into coloured spaces with claims of hurt feelings. I’m tired of white feminists who somehow manage to make every issue about them. I’m tired of white feminists like the one who was recently called out by women of colour for mocking black women, and then she and other white feminists lecture the women involved for being too “hostile” in their responses to her. I’m tired of white feminists telling me that my understanding of feminism and racism are wrong, as if these aren’t things that I have studied intensely. I’m tired of white feminists who claim to be allies, then abuse that position to their own advantage. I’m so fucking exhausted by the fact that I know that I will have to, at some point in this piece, mention that I understand that not all white feminists are like that. I will have to note that some white feminists are good allies. And all of those things are true! And all of you good allies get cookies! But honestly I’m tired of handing out cookies to people just because they’re being decent fucking human beings.

I spoke today on a panel about rape culture, and while the whole experience was fucking fantastic, I was totally disheartened by how many of the other presenters went out of their way to convince the men in the room that rape culture affected them, too. The phrase “rape culture isn’t a women’s issue, it’s a everyone’s issue,” kept coming up, and though I understand why it could be valuable to frame it that way, the rationale behind that makes me kind of sick. Because what we’re really saying is that if rape culture is understood to only be a woman’s issue, then it won’t be as important to men. Rape culture is something that men should care about not because it might affect them, but because it affects anyone at all. Men should care about women’s safety, full stop, without having the concept somehow relate back to them. Everyone should care about everyone else’s well-being – that’s what good people are supposed to do.

I recently had to do a lot of educating about racism in white feminist circles, and while I was happy that many white feminists supported me and the other women of colour involved, I was totally disheartened by how some white feminists could not see that they were failing to check their own white privilege. Racism is something that white feminists should care about because oppressions do not act in isolation. White feminists should care about the safety of feminists of colour, full stop, without having to make it about them. Everyone should care about everyone else’s well-being – that’s what good people are supposed to do.

Is it really so hard to have compassion about something that might not directly affect you?

Is it really so hard to have compassion about something that might not directly affect you?

I find that the more that I engage in activism, the more men seem to think that my time belongs to them. There seems to be this idea that if I’ve set myself up as an educator about feminism and gender and women’s rights (and I know that I have, and by and large I enjoy that role), then it’s somehow part of my job to take the time out of my busy day to explain basic feminist concepts to them. If I don’t, then I’m accused of all kinds of things – not properly backing up what I say with facts (though the facts are easily accessible to those who want them), not caring enough about “converting” men who might be on the fence (though they could convert themselves if they really wanted to), not being strong or smart enough to engage in a discussion (which we both know isn’t going to go anywhere). I used to burn myself out by patiently laying out my talking points over and over, directing people towards resources, never walking away from an arguments be it big or small. But I’m not doing that to myself anymore. This is my space; I get to decide what happens here. If I don’t want to reply to comments, then I won’t. If I don’t want to engage someone, then I’ll ignore them. Yes, I am here to educate and to explain, but I am not under any obligation to do anything that I don’t want to. That is not my job. If you want to learn more, then that’s your job.

I find that the more that I engage in feminism, the more white feminists seem to think that my time belongs to them. There seems to be this idea that if I’ve set myself up as an educator about feminism and gender and women’s rights and racism (and I know that I have, and by and large I enjoy that role), then it’s somehow part of my job to take the time out of my busy day to explain basic racism concepts to them. If I don’t, then I’m accused of all kinds of things – not properly backing up what I say with facts (though the facts are easily accessible to those who want them), not caring enough about teaching white feminists who haven’t thought enough about racism (though they could teach themselves if they really wanted to), not being strong or smart enough to engage in a discussion (which we both know isn’t going to go anywhere). I used to burn myself out by patiently laying out my talking points over and over, directing people towards resources, never walking away from an arguments be it big or small. But I’m not doing that to myself anymore. This is my space; I get to decide what happens here. If I don’t want to reply to comments, then I won’t. If I don’t want to engage someone, then I’ll ignore them. Yes, I am here to educate and to explain, but I am not under any obligation to do anything that I don’t want to. That is not my job. If you want to learn more, then that’s your job.

I’m going to call on all the men out there who consider themselves to be allies and ask them to step up to the plate and walk their own talk. When you see a woman being mansplained, you be the one to step in and call him out. When you see a bunch of men making misogynistic jokes, you be the one to tell them to fuck off. When someone asks for “proof,” don’t wait for a woman to provide it – you be the one to offer resources. Show us what a good ally you are by standing in the line of fire for once, and when you do, don’t immediately turn around and ask us for praise.

I’m going to call on all the white feminists out there who consider themselves to be allies and ask them to step up to the plate and walk their own talk. When you see a woman of colour being whitesplained, you be the one to step in and call them out. When you see a bunch of white people making racist jokes, you be the one to tell them to fuck off. When someone asks for “proof,” don’t wait for a person of colour to provide it – you be the one to offer resources. Show us what a good ally you are by standing in the line of fire for once, and when you do, don’t immediately turn around and ask us for praise.

I’m tired of talking to men about feminism, but it doesn’t have to be like this. The burden of this discussion doesn’t have to be on women; we don’t have to be the only ones fighting the good fight. So please, men who are reading this – instead of the usual knee-jerk reaction towards these types of posts, instead of rolling your eyes and saying, “great, another feminist shitting on men,” I’m asking you to instead get involved and do what you can to affect change. I’m not going to condescend to you and try to explain why that will make the world a better place; I trust that you’re all smart enough to figure that out by yourselves.

I’m tired of talking to white feminists about racism, but it doesn’t have to be like this. The burden of this discussion doesn’t have to be on people of colour; we don’t have to be the only ones fighting the good fight. So please, white feminists who are reading this – instead of the usual knee-jerk reaction towards these types of posts, instead of rolling your eyes and saying, “great, another woman of colour shitting on white feminists,” I’m asking you to instead get involved and do what you can to affect change. I’m not going to condescend to you and try to explain why that will make the world a better place; I trust that you’re all smart enough to figure that out by yourselves.

By Anne Thériault & Lily Tsui

Tuesday 16 September 2014

Letter to White Feminism

Dear White Feminists: Why do you keep doing this to us?

You. Yeah, you over there.

Why is it that when women of colour share their pain with you, you can’t help but make it about yourselves?

You are able to see that when men turn feminist concerns into whining about their own existence that it is derailing, that they should not be making it about them, yet when your sisters of colour call you out for your bad behaviour, you get defensive and tell us we are too angry or not nice enough or not polite enough or how we should be more like honey and not vinegar. 

You tell us we’re divisive, that we are causing fractures among women who should stand together, that we are a threat to solidarity, when it is your bad behaviour and failure to take responsibility for it that fails the movement. We are allies of convenience for you: we are welcome and lauded when we speak up and add our voices to yours, but when we rightfully dissent we are a burden. When we stand up for ourselves as you do against patriarchy, when we stand up and tell you that the colour of our skin makes the burden of patriarchy even heavier, you tell us we are distracting from  work on more important issues.

When one of us stands alone and speaks about this, we are told this is their own private personal problem. When we stand together and speak about this, when one coloured voice is added to another, we are told we are ganging up on you, when you just innocently did not know any better, when your other coloured friend said it was okay for your to act this way, and you ask us why we are being bullies and if we could just stop being so mean.

You recognize the toxicity of #NotAllMen and the validity of #YesAllWomen but stay willfully blind to #SolidarityIsForWhiteWomen. The irony of #NotAllWhiteFeminists flies over your head.

On one side, where you see patriarchy, you fight against tone-policing, recognizing it for the derailing tactic that it is. On the other side, the side where we stand with you, you use tone-policing to silence us.

The thing is, you need us more than we need you. Each and every one of us have lived a lifetime of intersecting oppressions. We all share similar wounds from patriarchy, but those of us who are not white have dealt with those wounds while at the same time nursing our injuries from a world that is just as racist as it is misogynist. Our army is stronger, because we have had to be. So when it comes time to really fight against the oppressive systems that hold us down, you’re the ones who will be left behind, because you think that our concerns distract from your cause when in fact they make the movement stronger. 

It does not have to be this way. 
You are capable of empathy. 
You are capable of learning about intersectionality. 
You are capable of being a real ally.

Now go do something about it.



Sunday 7 September 2014

To People Who Believe Womens’ Bodies are Property: You're an Ass AND You Can't Even Use Your Own Analogy Right

Last week, I saw someone argue that if you want to keep your shit safe, the only reasonable thing to do is put it in a safety deposit box. This was in the context of one of many, many debates over the celebrity nude photos debacle. What happened to those women was a sex crime, and the case has been well-argued by others like Anne over at the Bellejar so I won’t elaborate further here. 
It has bothered me that sex crimes are often compared to property crimes. My vagina is not comparable to a wallet (although I suppose if I really want to, I could store some stuff in it). My body is not a purse that I could leave unattended on a park bench, or an unlocked car at the curb. I would argue that my body is in fact under 24 hour guard by me, because for most humans, except those that have mastered astral projection, we are with our bodies ALL THE TIME. I don’t know what bank the safety deposit box lady goes to, but I have not been able to find a safety deposit box for my vagina. 

I think the fact that we talk about women’s bodies as property reflects the rape culture in which we live. A culture in which women are not people, but instead a commodity to be consumed by men. We are not entitled to safety, because we are not really people; at least, not as much as men get to be people.

The irony is, people don’t even talk about women’s bodies as particularly valuable property.

Years ago, my house was broken into. I came home to my front door unlocked and complete chaos inside the house. Two laptops were gone, our wedding rings, some other jewelry, a camera, and a guitar were taken. I was really creeped out, knowing strangers had been in my home. It felt like a violation.

People were so supportive. These are the kinds of things they said:

“Oh my God, that’s awful. Are you okay? What can I do to help? Do you need me to come stay over for a few days?”

“Do you think the police are doing enough? Are they dusting for prints?”

At no point did anyone ask me if I had left my doors unlocked, or said that I should have had a security system, or really, any responsibility implied on my part whatsoever.

But what do we hear when someone is sexually assaulted, or harassed on the street, or have their nude photos stolen?

“If someone wants their shit secure they should keep it in a safety deposit box!”

“Well, what do you expect, she was dressed like a slut!”

I don’t agree with people who compare women’s bodies to property. I think it is extremely dehumanizing and women deserve better, so much better. But for people that do think of women’s bodies this way:

CAN’T YOU AT LEAST EXTEND THE SAME COURTESY YOU WOULD WHEN TALKING ABOUT ACTUAL VALUABLES? YOU CAN’T EVEN BE CONSISTENT WHEN USING YOUR OWN SHITTY WORLDVIEW TO TALK ABOUT SEXUAL VIOLENCE! YOU CAN’T EVEN USE YOUR OWN CRAPPY ANALOGY RIGHT. WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?

Note: in case it is not brutally obvious by now, I think that if you believe women’s bodies are equivalent to materials goods, you are a misogynistic asstoupee. My point though, is if you’re going to see the world through such a terrible lens, you could at least be more consistent in your sick views. 






Wednesday 30 July 2014

Pseudo-Recipe for Kickass Crab Bisque

*pseudo because I don’t really measure anything and always just sort of do this kind of thing on the fly.

This is what I did to make crab bisque. It was ridiculously tasty. I am not really into “subtle flavours”, so do know that this bisque is really crabby and just sort of hits you in the face with it’s overwhelming crabbiness. As you will see there isn’t much in it other than crab.

Boil some crabs. (I used two dungeness crab which in total came in just under four pounds). Save the water you boiled the crabs in. Some people like to salt the water but then it creates over-saltiness issues when reducing stock so I think you can get away without salting the water.

Take all the meat out of the crabs. Keep everything else (including the “goo”). You need the goo for the flavour in the stock. If you think the crab goo is disgusting then get over yourself and go eat something else.

It’s easiest if you just take the crab apart over a oven-safe pan. I used my pyrex lasagna pan. Throw the whole pile of stuff into the oven at 400 degrees for 10-12 minutes, or until you smell roasty crab smells. Then dump the whole pile back into the pot where the crab-water is. Boil it gently, with the lid on. The longer you boil it the tastier it will be. Add an onion and other veggies, if you want (I just did an onion). I boiled it for about 90 minutes. Stir it occasionally. Probably not a big deal if you don’t though. You may want to do this outside if this is an option for you (I have a burner on my BBQ) if you don’t want your house to smell like crab for days.

Once you run out of time and/or patience, fish out all the large chunks. Now boil it some more with the lid off to reduce the stock. For the stock for 2 crabs I added four glug glugs of Sherry. Then I reduced it by about 3 or 4x. (So, for each litre of crab stock, I reduced it down to a cup or a bit more).

Now you strain it all, first with a medium mesh strainer and then with a fine mesh strainer or a cheese cloth. 

Make a roux by melting butter in a pan and then adding flour to the sizzling butter. People vary in how they like to do roux but there’s something called google you can use to figure that part out. I like it on the slightly browner side for colour but then it has less thickening power so adjust accordingly.

Then you dump crab stock in. Careful not to use too much as the stock may be salty. Make sure you stir rigorously as you add the stock to the roux.

Let it simmer a few minutes. Then add cream. You want it to be really kickass, use heavy (whipping) cream. You may be able to get away with using a lower fat cream or even milk, but note that the higher fat content leads to tastier/richer bisque and you don’t have the problem of curdling as easily.

Taste it. It will thicken as it cools so you want it a bit more liquidy than the consistency for serving. Adjust with herbs and salt and pepper, if needed. (Mine did not need anything; I would have thrown in some thyme if I could find any.) Err on the side of adding cream slowly, if it gets too thick start thinning out with milk/water.

You can warm up the crab meat a bit if you like, or in my case I just separated the meat into bowls and poured the hot bisque right on top. That resulted in perfect diving in temperature. 

I would imagine this could work well for lobster too.

I know this is probably not super helpful if you are in need of specific instructions for cooking, but as one of the reasons why I think I get good results is trusting my instincts and adjusting on the fly, I don't want to be any more specific. Cooking should be about being creative! (There's many specific recipes out their in the world so there's always google too). I just wanted to share this because it is the best soup I've ever made and maybe others want to try it too.


Thursday 20 March 2014

A Letter of Support to Women Who Happen Also To Be Mothers

I appear to be well-known as someone who is not a huge fan of being a mother.

This isn't much of a surprise to me; my skepticism regarding motherhood is something I have been quite outspoken about, although less so now than a few years ago.

I used to believe that motherhood was primarily a trap, a bottomless void of obligation from which there is no escape. This is in part fuelled by my own mother's ambivalence towards motherhood, and the… questionable ways in which she dealt with me. As more and more women I know became mothers, my position on motherhood has softened and become much more nuanced.

In spite of my well-known aversion to becoming a mother myself (and I will admit, my aversion wavers from time to time, but that's for a whole other piece), motherhood, and by extension, parenthood, are ways of being that I'm curious about and have taken steps to be more informed about it. My attitudes towards motherhood are not so much anti-children as they are pro-women; although I recognize this can be difficult to distinguish at times. For the record, if I love you or care about you, this gets automatically extended to your children.

Sometimes people are surprised to find out I am a doula. I chose to participate in doula training initially because a friend asked me to be her birth coach; but I do not actively solicit clients to provide birthing services. (It's something meant for people who really love the work, because the market rate for doula work is terrible.) I've enjoyed all the births I've attended, but I know it is in part because I had pre-existing personal relationships with the birthing moms. In doula training, there was a discussion about being "child-centred" or "woman-centred"; I am definitely far in the realm of the latter. I care about the child, sure, but I see my role as focused on optimizing the woman's experience, especially since I've seen how child-centred the birthing experience can be.

Anyways, enough about me. I had to share the above because I think what I've described here are in part why many women I know have said things about being a mother to me that they may not say to someone else, because our culture seems to frown on being anything less than a perfect mother who wants to be with their child 24/7 and be 100% devoted constantly. I believe this ideal is impossible, and often, attempting to be this ideal is unhealthy.

I want women in my life who also happen to be mothers to know that it is okay to not enjoy being a mom all the time. It's even okay to hate it. You can love your children without wanting to be with them 24/7. Being at home with a baby can be incredibly boring/annoying/soul-sucking. What our society at times promote as "good" ideals for mothering can come with a huge cost to your sense-of-self.

I know this because mothers have told me these things; often in tears and almost always with great difficulty. None of it has ever been surprising for me to hear, but yet many of the women who've shared these thoughts with me say so as though they are confessing horrible thoughts and intentions that no one else who had ever existed had ever felt and therefore they must be terrible people.

My reaction has always been along the lines of "that sounds perfectly sane and normal to me."How could it not be? First, there's the dramatic changes to one's body via pregnancy (assuming there was one, although I vaguely recall that even if one does not carry a baby themselves there can still be hormonal changes and etc.), followed by dramatic changes to one's lifestyle. For most women I know, birth marks a sudden transition from being a working woman to staying at home. You go from being around adults all day to being around a baby who is entirely unable to recognize that you have needs and wants; in fact, I would argue that newborns cannot even recognize that you are a person (that is not to say that there isn't lots of bonding and other wonderful things going on, but let's not pretend that babies are not, by their very nature, 100% self-centred). It is an incredibly unbalanced relationship. No one I know would ever put up with that kind of dependency from another adult, yet somehow as a mother not only are you supposed to put up with it, you're supposed to not even resent it a little. This is completely non-sensical to me.

Of course, this is why the entire human race is hardwired (save some extraordinary and terrifying examples) to fall in love with babies. We've evolved this way, because otherwise our species wouldn't have survived. No self-respecting person I know would put up with a partner treating them the ways babies do; yet society often frowns on mothers expressing anything but pure joy and devotion towards their incredibly needy offspring.

Well, I for one, want the women in my life to know that there is nothing more human and honest to me than someone feeling ambivalent about being a mother. It is not the same as being ambivalent about loving your children. Expressing your frustration about what you've had to sacrifice is an act of self-care; I am happy to be a sympathetic ear. Everyone in my life knows how much I love dogs, but I still get annoyed at them and resent their neediness from time to time. When I tell a story about how my dog got into the garbage and I was resentful that I had to clean it up doesn't mean I love them less, so why would anyone think that being resentful about changing 3+ years of diapers full of human waste be seen as bad mothering?

I can't change our culture's unrealistic expectations about what motherhood should look like, but I can offer the following:

1. I am your friend before I am your child's friend. So if you want to tell me your baby/toddler/child/teenager/grown children are being assholes, I am not going to make excuses for them. I will agree with you. "Yeah! Can't believe he threw the spaghetti on the floor! Such an asshole". (I do believe even babies and young children can be assholes, at least through adult eyes, even if they don't INTEND to be assholes.)

2. I can sympathize with the frustrations of domestic life. Look at my house. I don't have kids. It's a mess. I can't even imagine what it would be like to insert a kid into the mix. Honestly, if I had kids, I would see it as completely justifiable that we live in a wasteland.

3. I may not have to put up with social expectations of being a perfect mother, but I have often had to deal with accusations that I am selfish for not wanting to BE a mother. I DON'T EVEN HAVE KIDS AND PEOPLE TRY TO GUILT-TRIP ME ABOUT BEING A BAD MOTHER TO CHILDREN THAT DO NOT EXIST. So even though the guilt probably comes from a different place for you, I get it. I get that you can feel utter relief when ditching your kids at your parents or at the in-laws or with a babysitter, yet also feel guilty for feeling that relief or joy or whatever.

4. If you're having a bad mothering day/week/month/year, and others are expressing disapproval, know that I am generally quite impressed your kids are alive. Most days I'm impressed with myself for keeping ME alive, let alone someone else who isn't capable of getting in the car and obtaining sustenance at the drive-thru and using a damn toilet.

5. I have had significant training in crisis counselling. You can talk to me in this capacity about parenting, if you want to. From my eyes, parenting appears to be an endless string of crises after another anyway. I may be completely useless when it comes to practical advice, but I am pretty good at listening.

6. (This relates directly back to number 3, so I have no idea why I inserted two more list items in between, but whatever.) I believe being a mother will include feeling horrible about what you have to do (I refer back to managing human waste for years), so I will try to talk you out of also feeling guilty for feeling like shit about it sometimes. Feeling like shit about it is already something I wish I could help prevent; there really is no point in feeling guilty about feeling like shit about something.

I get that it is possible that maybe, just maybe, some of the women I know can be that ideal mother society lauds as what we should strive to be. And if you are, good for you. But I suspect that it's much more probable that all the mothers I know feel ambivalent at least on occasion, and I want you to know that I'm here for you. Just because I've chosen to be childless doesn't mean I am heartless.

So, to be clear: I may not be a big fan of the idea of ME being a mother, but that doesn't mean I am not a big fan of women who ARE mothers. I've rambled on long enough, and if you've stuck with me all the way to the end of this post, know that if I am supportive of you in general, my support doesn't end when it comes to your experiences as a mother, even if I am not one myself.

In solidarity,

Lily