Guest Writer! Needs Your Advice!!

Hey All--
This is a friend. While her behavior isn't about societal oppression, she wanted a go at being open about her oppressive behavior. She wants your advice!

Here's her post!

My oppressive behaviour: I want a casual dating situation- non-exclusivity, no pressure of formal relationship status, sexual intimacy, 'falling in love' without the crap of commitment--- and i'm prepared to sacrifice another person's trusting, sweet, hopeless(?)-misplaced romanticism (& desire for a real & lasting relationship) for my enjoyment.

Is that so wrong? If I'm completely honest, and they're indecisive enough to basically say- "well, ok I'll take what i can get-" with the underlying, somewhat obvious implied line being "I'm hurting myself by investing in you- who doesn't want to invest in me."

should I say no for their sake? should I go ahead & take what they give me, whether they're hurting while I'm taking it or whether I notice or not? Ouch. that hurts to write-

I'm ashamed- eck. yes i know this blog ain't about guilt- it's painful- like fuck- it hurts my self-image to notice that i hurt other people to get what i want. i'm not perfect. fuck, that's disappointing ;)

yes, now i know i don't want to continue this relationship- but it's fucking nice to have that power & get what i want ... shucks i use my power when i've got it.

Thank you, Majoritychick, for this lovely space to publicly explore one tiny recent portion of my oppressiveness.

In the brain of the monster, not the belly

Two helpful quotes about the identity of a privilege person in relation to oppressed people.


Andy Cornell in his letter to Punk Rock for the compilation Letters from Young Activists (http://www.lettersfromyoungactivists.org/):

"[Punk rock activism] blurred the line for us between oppression and exploitation on one hand, and alienation on the other...In the United States, punk is overwhelmingly a white and middle-class subculture. You channel and encourage the rage, anger, and disillusionment of largely privileged youth- and you are right to do so. But along the way, the racist police brutality, the poverty of minimum wage, the violence of rape and war that others feel becomes almost one and the same with the emptiness of consumer-culture, the stultifying pressure of middle-class expectations, and the boredom of cul-de-sac suburbia that we, much more immediately, feel in our lives. Oppression and alienation are connected, of course, but they are certainly not interchangeable. "


Multiple Authors in "Rethinking Solidarity" an article for Left Turn Magazine (http://www.leftturn.org/):

"It was a helpful reminder that Zapatistas do not consider their allies in the United States to be living so much in the 'belly of the beast' as in the 'brain of the monster'. In other words, the US is the place where neoliberal policies aimed at subverting global democracy are hatched and executed in communities around the world-including right here in the United States."

I know I've been a bully

So many situations where I wish I said/did something differently with the campers. It takes time to learn how to talk to them, but I can't help but feel frustrated with myself. When I heard a girl say "I'm so fat. Don't look at me" and another girl say, "I have to wear this towel because my boobs are really uneven and it's really obvious," I felt frozen. I wanted to say something, but "you're not fat" or "you're beautiful" seem so trite.

Then I hear other kids say bullying and oppressive things. On the bus ride back from the water park, one kid refused to move over to let another kid with physical and mental disabilities sit next to him. He said he didn't want to sit next to a "drooling person." Then today, as we ate dishes of quickly melting ice cream, the loud little bully yelled at a kid with aspergers to "STOP TALKING ABOUT THE SIMPSONS!!" He 's constantly talking about the show.

Even though I try to break it up most of the time, I want to do more, say more. I hear some of my own thoughts in the kids meanness and I know I've been a bully at times, too. In the girls, I hear my own obsessions with my body. And how can I help them, when I'm struggling with the same feelings? Maybe I should try confiding that I've felt the same frustrations with other kids or insecurities, but that we need to be compassionate with ourselves and with others. Geez, I don't know.

Shit...

Camp's Awesome and I've Already Fucked Up

Camp Day 1

The kids are much smarter and funnier than I thought middle schoolers would be. Save for the laugher EVERY TIME I said "ball" referring to a ball of yarn while knitting. Because dominant society supports divisions among age groups, even small divisions, the last time I was around 10-14 year olds was when I was in middle school. I thought I wouldn't be able to relate at all. Then I remember myself in eighth grade- dreadlocked!! (that's another entry...), 79 pounds, obsessed with wanting a boyfriend, hoping for my period, and sarcastic as hell with adults.

My one OHMYGOD cringe moment was when, in front of a mixed race group of campers, I asked one of my co-couselors about his "Indian name," because he goes by an Americanized, easy to pronounce name. Quickly, I realized my blunder as he said, "my Indian name?? I'm not Indian." He was really offended, as he's told me multiple times that hes from Sri Lanka!! I quickly apologized and then again a minute later.

On one hand, I'm really glad that it happened in front of the campers, because I was sincerely apologetic, but made sure not to overcompensate in a desire to ease my own embarrassment and discomfort. I think I could have opened further conversation, but I'm not ready to make a lesson on the spot about my own racism and lack of education about South Asia. However, I think it might serve as an example to bring up later when conversations about race and ethnicity come up.

BUT, of course, being ignorant and being called out on it in front of a group feels totally crappy. I felt badly for hurting my favorite co-counselor. Also, I want to present myself as a white ally for the kids of color, so it was a bad start for that.

Ally News: 40, 000 Murdered in Iraq and US is staying in it for "our kids"

Sometimes I feel so helpless to do anything about the Iraq war that I ignore the headlines. Maybe you do the same thing. Here are a few facts about what's going on now.

The US has murdered or helped to murder upwards of 40,000 Iraqis.

Tuesday, Bush went to Iraq for a surprise visit, where he was quoted as saying, "I was inspired to be able to visit the capital of a free and democratic Iraq." That night new security measures went into effect with 40,000 troops patrolling the streets, cars banned on Fridays, and an 8pm curfew. Today, at least 11 people were killed in Baghdad during a suicide bombing.

Also, as of yesterday, the US has assisted in the murder of 2500 US soldiers through the continued war effort. In reference to the US deaths, US army's Brig Gen Carter Ham (don't ask me what his title means) said, "It's important to remember that there is a mission, and there is a greater good which sometimes necessitates tremendous sacrifice."

Today, the House of Representatives passed a motion backing the president's handling of the Iraq war and rejecting a deadline for withdrawing US troops. While debating the motion, Republican House majority leader John Boehner, said "achieving victory is our only option, for the American people and our kids."

Taking the trouble to get to know them

I began training for my new job as a camp counselor. I'll be working with 6th-9th graders, some of whom have physical and mental disabilities. As the counselors lounged on the comfy couches in our 70's styled homebase, the assistant director gave us the rundown on the kids with disabilities, ranging form cerebal palsy to ADHD to autism. Each kid with a disability had a litany of special needs that we had to know about. We shouldn't say "no" or "don't do that" to one kid. One cries and screams when she hears the "happy birthday" song. Two are inappropriate touchers. One needs a special cool-off rocking chair for his angry outburts and two of them need their diapers changed.

I wish we would have met the kids before hearing about all of their needs, because then they would be real people, not just problems on paper. Their disabilities are daunting. I felt like we were catering to their every whim and I felt myself feeling angry at their parents for...geez, I don't know. I'm mad at them for having kids who I won't feel instantly comfortable around, who I'll have to work harder for, and who won't necessarily be the typical easy camper. I'm scared of disability and I'm scared of interacting with people who have them.

I cut this out of the New York Times about a week ago. I wasn't sure why at the time, but now it makes sense to me. This letter is in response to "Autism's Parent Trap" by Cammie McGovern (Op-Ed, June 5)

"To the Editor:
...In the almost 20 years since my own autistic son was born, I have never seen a "recovered" child. And yet what might have been a personal tragedy-and is, for many parents- turned out to be a treasure.
In his sweet, elusive, bright, limited, funny, sometimes irritating and frankly tiresome character, I found a human being who is utterly without malice.
In his own odd way, Randy is the gentlest, most unexpected, original person I have ever known. He inspires almost everyone who takes the trouble to know him. Even if I could turn Randy into a "real boy" I would not...

Linda H. Davis
Harvard, Mass June 5, 2006"

You have also written poems on loose sheets

One of my best friends from growing up is Nicaraguan. I'm planning a three month trip there to learn Spanish, hopefully experience some community organizing, and learn about myself by learning about others. I've spoken about my plans with her a bunch, but I always get this bitter-sweet vibe from her about it, like she's resentful of my decision to go to there. I understand why white,rich people traveling to Nicaragua is difficult for her to swallow. But, I don't agree with all of things she says about it, believing she is putting some of her own shit on all white people or all rich people who travel South.

She and I have a complicated eleven year relationship that I value more than most things in my life. Ours is a history based partially in privilege and oppression. As kids, she had to leave her Spanish and her Nicaraguan Cuban working class identity out of our rich Jewish group of friends . I participated, as a kid, in smashing her full identity into a smaller container. After being smashed up for so many years, when she left for college, she was finally able to break free of that group of people, but I'm still part of that past.

Generally, I feel nervous challenging her opinions on race/class issues, because of our history. But, at the same time, I think it is wrong for me to hold my tongue about things that she says that I don't agree with, simply because of guilt associated with our history or because she's Latina. I don't want that and I really assume she doesn't want that either. I want to make a more conscious effort to respectfully challenge her on things she says about race/class in the future.

I wrote her a letter explaining some of this. I hope she writes back.

*after the Sandinista revolution in 1979, the Sandinistas organized public poetry workshops for anyone to attend. the writing is realistic, really beautiful and written by normal people. here is a poem from one of the workshops (translated into English!) that I really love.

Letter-Poem

I am writing to you from this spot
amid this scenery which brings back memories
of walks hand in hand
beneath the trees
of fresh winds in our faces.
From here I say
taht although we are apart
I feel you are with me always.
You form a part of my work.
Each night we initiate a poem together.
I know that you
the same as me
on days like this
have also felt me close
and like me
you have also written poems on loose sheets
and you begin to feel as if we are together
and we can feel each other's hands
and even each otehr's lips.
This is what I am feeling, love.
This is what I am feeling.

Juan Ramón Falcón

"I'm only here because my boyfriend needs me" AKA Internalized Oppression

On Sunday afternoon, I went to check out a bike race. An acquaintance asked if I wanted to come to the endpoint of the race and help set up for the celebratory BBQ. It was a sunny clear sky and the racers were excited, bustling with energy and the $1 beers from the bar where the race was to begin. The vast majority of the racers were men and the three people (including the race organizer) going to the park to set up were women. I felt a little bit like a groupie, because I didn't really know anyone racing very well and I hate to say it, but I wouldn't have minded meeting a cute racer at the end of it all.

I couldn't help but feel my gender while the men raced and I hung out with women. I spend a lot of time with my hetero lady friends talking about men. Even with women I don't know, like these women, we can easily slip into conversation about our love lives or lack thereof. I love how intimate conversations can quickly become between women. But, with so much excitement and a few tasks to accomplish, I felt uncomfortable having our confessional type of conversation. Both women talked quite a bit about their boyfriends (both men were racing). We talked about how long they'd been dating, waking up early to attend every race every weekend, what boyfriends did to pay the bills, and how fucked up things were pre-boyfriends.

It felt like the only thing we could find in common was that we had men in our lives we wanted to support and sob stories about men. This is the first time I've ever noticed myself feel that I longed for the way I've seen my men friends interacting with each other- quiet when the don't have anything to say, joking, showing off and telling stories.

Eww.

Hmm, well there used to be a picture here, but the original website took it down. Good thinking on their part. It was an image of two guys at a hipster party in New York, one wearing a swastika on his forehead and the other with a Hitler mustache, posing for the camera.

I'll leave it to gawker.com to say it best:

"This is the backup plan for when Blackface Jesus wakes up, realizes he only has a pinch of facepaint left, looks in the mirror and asks himself, “Well, what can I do to maintain my unnecessary and senseless attempts at being offensive?”

Ally Stuff: Enthusiastic Consent

What Guys Need To Know About Consent


For the past year and a half, I facilitated six week long classes with fraternity guys about masculinity and sexual violence. Sometimes, I was disconnected because my way of talking about issues from a semi-academic, white feminist perspective wasn't always clear to "normal" guys.

The linked article clearly articulates what consent is and beyond that, why sex partners should be aiming for "enthusiastic consent". I love this underdiscussed (even in sex positive communities) concept. I know lots of feminists (including boys) who don't understand why having enthusiastic consent is important. Shit, I've pried them off of me...eww.

Link to article:
http://incestabuse.about.com/cs/domesticabuse/a/sexguidelines.htm

Fuck you whitey AKA My imagined class/race solidarity

There's this 9to5er in the builidng I clean, a white middle-aged nerdy guy who always chats it up with the janitors. He offered me some candy today. Leading me far off my normal bathroom chores to his cubicle, he opend his drawer and gave me a kitkat bar. I know it sounds creepy, but it wasn't. It was nice.

Usually, I find myself being critical of most of the white 9to5ers, taking on some kind of imaginary race and/or class solidarity by feeling venom for them. By seperating (in my mind) myself from the white 9to5ers, white fancy people, white people who do charity, white hippies and white hipsters, I can avoid thinking about the millions of ways I'm similar to them. I'm a different white person. I'm a cool white person. I'm a down-for-the-cause white person. The funny thing is, I end up feeling more venom towards them than the many of the other non-white workers, who appreciate acknoweldgement and a nice gesture.