A Call for Asian-Canadian feminism

I’m at Kickaction today, participating in the site’s annual Blogging Carnival. The recent emergence of Asian Americans/Asian Canadians as being vaguely “threatening” inspired me to write about the need to push back – especially in the form of Asian American and Asian Canadian feminism. Read about it here, if you’re so inclined.

Reading poetry

I was an English student that never quite warmed up to poetry. I loved a good narrative and character too much so I could never quite appreciate the imagery and the rhythm of poetic language. Reading poetry always felt like such a chore, as opposed to reading fiction or even criticism.

But spending almost a year in law school has made me appreciate poetry again. Reading legal writing means I am forced to dig into so many words to find a salient point in legal writing, I am drawn to the more concise nature of slim poetry volumes while trying to relax. I opened Sylvia Plath’s Ariel recently – the last time I read it was when I was 19 – and have been reading a few poems before going to bed. It’s no easy bedside companion, but reading language for the sake of language is a refreshing change from reading language as a means for something else.

I am noticing the stark contrast between wanting to be an invisible, ethereal presence, and the inability to escape the messy, bodily realities (the focus on colour red, and its intrusive and unavoidable qualities) Many people identify the inability to insert her subjectivity as anything but fragmented as a main theme of the collection, which also strangely resonates with thinking about legal subjects and the struggle for intersectionality, rather than static identity categories.

Next on the list: Marianne Moore.

On justification and close-ups.

This week, I was told to think about the “violence of justification” – how we let go of valuing something for itself when we say why it must exist, where the thing is then reduced to a means to an end. It’s an apt thing to think about, especially as a law student, where law school is often experienced as a means to an end, rather than as a thing that can be lived in itself.

And it makes me wonder, why is it so? This is not to say every day of my first year has been filled with epiphany and wonder, but I have certainly not been enduring this like some torture I must get through to the prize of…a big paycheck? I feel almost guilty expressing how much I enjoy what I am learning, and how I even enjoy reading some of the cases (the volume of readings I have to get through is another story) because it’s like reading a tedious Victorian narrative of human failure and tragedy. But if I had to tell you where this is all going or why this is important in the grand scheme of my “life” – where many plans had been scrapped or rerouted completely – I wouldn’t know where to begin.

The notion of justification as violence also reminds me of Deleuze’s theory of close-ups in cinema – where close-ups are these moments of “pure affect” where the face escapes the linearity of plot and the contained nature of the character for just a few seconds. The moment of potential and indescribable feeling, before being resolved into the totality of a narrative.

That pure affect is how I feel about life at the moment – the unresolved, unbridled potentiality, before having to “choose” – justify – my life choice of going to law school. I don’t have to tell everyone why I’m here and where I’ll be going – just yet.

[the clip above is from a 1928 silent film "The Passion of Joan of Arc," possibly the best film for multiple close-ups, as well as a useful experiment in experiencing narrative and temporality]

Surviving

 

It snowed in Montreal again today, so this video is resonating with me a lot tonight. The determined footsteps, the armour-like winter jackets, everything. Watching this video also made me realize I have lived in Eastern Canada for so long now that real winter seems completely normal. The other day, a West coaster asked me when the snow stops. April, sometimes even May, I said without much thought. That doesn’t seem so ludicrous anymore.

I am feeling bouts of melancholia these days, reading snippets of The Waste Land and listening to Sylvia Plath between my “real” readings about unfortunate people getting the short end of the stick from the courts. But things are going very well for me. It is what it is.

Being honest: my (interracial) relationship anxieties

I haven’t made real resolutions for 2012. But a few nights ago, I lay in my bed, tossing and turning thanks to West Coast jet lag, I promised myself that I should be more honest about my emotions and try to write them down more.

So here’s a start: my interracial relationship makes me feel anxious sometimes.

When I go to the Korean-run grocery stores with my boyfriend, I unconsciously start walking faster to be in front of him – rather than beside him – because I’m afraid the grocers will judge me for being with him. I am aware of how this makes me sound. But I am being honest – don’t worry, my boyfriend has already noticed made fun of me for this tendency.

I am afraid of my hypothetical children not knowing about their Korean heritage, or even worse, being ashamed of their Korean heritage, like I was for a long time in my teens. I am afraid of not being able to pass my culture or teach my children about their heritage in a meaningful way.

Of course, the above statement shows just how irrational and unfounded my shame is. My full-fledged “Korean-ness” did not mitigate the shame about my heritage. I am too embarrassed to count the times I wished my parents could make me a nice casserole and speak better English during my teen years.

–

I remember the first time I felt the racial politics of dating. One of my old housemates in university had invited one of his friends over our shared house. He was a nice guy; we chatted a little, but I didn’t think much of it after. After this guy left, however, my housemate came up to me all smiley-faced and asked: “So? What did you think of [guy whose name I have now completely forgotten]?”

“…I don’t know? He’s nice?”

At this point I realized that what my housemate had in mind was match-making. Because this guy was Asian, I was Asian, and we both liked English lit! Actually, it wasn’t a bad guess, and I’m not blaming my former housemate for this at all. But it was definitely a moment where I recognized my racial difference demarcating my “dating territory,” per se.

Maybe I’ve internalized that moment in my mind too much. I do that. And I know how much of a burden this internalization has been to my very patient partner. I know I have acted unfairly against him because of my own mixed feelings. But I’m learning to get over my shame and learning to get over the propaganda about pure-bloodedness and the link between ethnicity and culture. I think about how hard I would have to work in order to communicate my own confused identity to my hypothetical future children no matter what. I think about how love was not born with a rational mind, but a need to have happiness in an intangible, incalculable way.

A friend recently said to me: “If you worry about everything, you’ll just be alone anyway.” And what good would being alone and paranoid do to furthering my culture and heritage, if that were the case?

 

What I discovered in 2011

In general, 2011 was a year of many changes. I went back to school after a brief break, changed disciplines, and changed my laptop loyalty to good ol’ Apple. Here are some new things that became a part of my life this year:

Thankful for Montreal

This is my 4th year in Montreal – including one where I lived as an “actual” working resident and not just as a student. In Montreal I learned how to appreciate a late night out on a terrasse, pick up my French and perfect my franglais, enjoy hot dogs and ground beef in my poutine, and sweat it out in tiny crowded rooms of art festivals. I also learned how to enjoy a good picnic on the mountain and Oka cheese.

I finished my exams yesterday – all 5 of’em. Because school was so intense and busy this term, I had almost forgotten about the unique, diverse and beautiful city that exists outside of school. So I took today to remedy that situation. Here are some photos from the day:

Outside Mont-Royal station

If you live in the Plateau, Lallouz Café & Kebaberie opened a new location on St-Laurent and Mont-Royal. You should go and admire the beautiful decoration and incredible pickled vegetables.

Also, Paolo’s Café (a few doors down from Café Lallouz) makes delicious espresso allongés. And isn’t my friend Laura adorable?

Thanks, Montreal. See you in the new year.

Discussing the Protect Life Act

I’m knee-deep in exam preparation these days. But here’s something I wrote before all of that started – a post for the McGill Journal of Law and Health blog (where I’m one of the web editors) about the Protect Life Act that’s currently undergoing Senate debates in the States.

On student activism, rights, and having a voice

I took this photo at the newly renamed Community Square (or James Square) at McGill today, where about a 1000 (!) students gathered to voice their opinions, share their frustrations and deep disappointments at what took place on Nov. 10. For non-Quebeckers, a recap: there was a city-wide protest from students at all 4 universities in Montreal that day. 14 students decided to peacefully occupy James Administration building to voice their concerns. Their protests were countered by riot police, who responded with physical assault, pepper spray, and tear gas. 

The students and faculty members came together to strategize about how to heal, how to respond, and most importantly, to keep exercising the rights – of free speech, of freedom of expression – in times where such things seem to be losing their ground. It was inspiring to see such a big turnout, such mobilizing powers and such articulation from my university.

Of course, there are mixed reactions. Some people see this as nothing more than a bunch of whiny university students complaining about things when we have it so good in a place like McGill/Montreal/Canada. This re-framing of student protests is what concerns me about how society sees activism these days as nothing more than a frivolity or an overreaction, and I am not alone in the concern, as one distinguished McGill alumnus (now a professor of political theory at University of Maryland) discusses the history of university protests, and building occupation (as well as teach-ins ans sit-ins) as “well established forms of student protests.”

I feel concerned that somehow, voicing concern about having one’s rights (to demand a place in the negotiating table) eroded is now being framed as entitlement, rather than the right course of action. I feel concerned that because our conditions are better than other places, students/citizens are supposed to just “take it” and be complacent with what we’ve got. Such conception of society deprives an aspirational ideal that democratic societies are founded upon, where we should always be striving for more justice, rather than “make do” with the status quo.

Yes, it’s true that Quebec has some of the lowest tuition in North America, and that Canada as a whole is a pretty good place to live, and that McGill in general is more peaceful than other places. But people fought hard for those “good” conditions – they didn’t come out of a vacuum. It’s so hard to gain equality but so easy to lose it, little by little – and I see this is exactly what the Charest government and the administration is trying to do. I am glad to see that McGill students and faculty members are resisting that imposition, in trying to make the university what it’s supposed to be – a place where ideas can be exchanged and democratic ideals can be held to their highest esteem.

I wrote a book review.

Thought I’d share one of the last things I wrote before school began – a fiction review of Edem Awumey’s novel Dirty Feet. I’ve somehow carved myself a niche of reviewing tales of migration. I like it.