Recently, Parti Quebecois — the sovereigntist party — forcefully came out and said that it will rewrite the Quebec Charter to do away with reasonable accommodation, so that Quebec remains a “secular” state. In reality, this is an anti-immigrant and specifically anti-Muslim agenda dressed as secularism, where wearing a cross is alright but wearing a hijab is not (Because certain things like “Christmas” are a part of Quebec’s heritage, said Marois). You can read about this from the party’s website (in French), or read this editorial in English (note: it is an editorial by an anglophone newspaper, so it does not don the “neutral” tone you would find in a news article) to learn more about it.
Pauline Marois (image via Wikipedia)
Time and time again, just when I feel that maybe Montreal could be my home, I see the Quebec’s ugly side of its uniqueness – where the politicians don the hurtful language of cultural preservation and purity and whatever else to win votes. A shame, really.
Lena Dunham — whose show occupies a grey zone in my heart — woke up from the wrong side of the bed and decided that it was funny to put a scarf on her head and make a “fundamentalist” joke.
Feministing wrote an interesting piece responding to the Dunham controversy, asking whether it matters that Dunham is a “casual racist,” whether we’re hard on her because she’s a woman, and whether the media is focusing too much on Dunham’s personal behaviour too much.
To which, I say: of course, it matters. First of all, I find the classification of “casual racism” a bit problematic — especially from a site like Feministing. Are we now differentiating racism by their degrees and saying “some” racism is okay? When? Who gets to decide that?
I’m not afraid to say I expect something more from Dunham than say, Charlie Sheen or the creators of Two and a Half Men. Why? Because the same media, which rips Dunham apart, keeps on touting her as a representative of my generation and an inspiration for young women. She’s the voice of my generation that’ll carry comedy forward, they say, and make relatable comedy for “women.” Okay, that’s great. If that is the case then, I’d like her to remain at least somewhat sensitive to the issues that affect all kinds of women.
I love television shows. I’m also keen on seeing more Asian representations on television. So when K-Town (aka Jersey Shore for Asians) finally made its online debut after casting changes and delays, I had to watch it, of course.
The result?
Ehhhh.
Lots of drinking, hair-pulling, drinks being thrown, etc. What else did I expect?
Despite my reservations, I dutifully introduced this show to another Asian Canadian friend, and we ended up having a K-Town marathon on her big-screen TV. After binging on the drama, we inevitably asked ourselves the question that many people have asked about this show: Is this show good for Asian Americans?
Ehhhh.
I mostly find the men’s portrayal on the show more interesting than the women’s, mainly because we don’t see many Asians in “jock” or “partier” (or I might even say “ditz” if I’m feeling mean) roles. It’s also kind of refreshing to see a host of Asian Americans existing as an entire world, rather than as tokens in a white-washed one of mainstream television. It has the Asians: they’re just like us! effect. Even if that “just like us” message is geared towards…shirtlessness and belligerence. (note: the pictures from the Disgrasian link feature some of the old cast members, who are no longer on the current version of the show)
Then again, K-Town’s failed distribution deal with MTV is perhaps telling of the racial landscape of television — whereas Italian Americans were seen as capable of capturing a wider audience, Asian Americans are not there yet.
But race might not be the only factor that hindered its success. In my opinion, there is a general absence of heightened drama in K-Town that prevent it from being a true guilty pleasure. From what I can tell, the show (as it is now, after some casting changes) seems to consist mostly of friends who knew each other before, besides a couple of additions. This gives the viewer a sense of intruding upon something that was already established, rather than growing with new relationships. MTV shows got this down pat, with The Real World as well as Jersey Shore – where a bunch of strangers came to live in one place for a designated purpose of drama for the camera. This helped the viewer to feel like s/he was a part of this relationship.
Also, house footages on Jersey Shore helped to add that dimension of intimacy — something K-Town also lacks. So really, watching K-Town is like watching loud and obnoxious people at a club, something I try to avoid in real life. I’ve seen obnoxious crowds before, so there’s nothing new there. But Jersey Shore gave me something more exclusive, behind-the-scenes workings of an obnoxious crowd (which I don’t get to see). This didn’t necessarily help me understand or empathize with them any more, but there have been the occasional moments of tenderness or friendship that have surprised me. I can’t say the same for K-Town, really.
So will I keep watching? Three episodes later, I remain unconvinced — but it is vacation time for me after all, so who knows?
(If you’re interested in learning more about the show, Schema has weekly updates as well as Twitter chats when new episodes air every Wednesday.)
Laura’s post on staring men has made me think a lot about street harassment and uninvited attention/invitation from men on the street.
I’ve been verbally harassed many times on the street. The only time where I came close to being physically assaulted was in the Paris metro, and that was just a few aggressive pokes on the shoulder. I know how lucky I am to have only brushed against the idea of being physically assaulted, rather than experiencing physical assault. I guess I shouldn’t have such high expectations that some day, women will feel okay just being by themselves, or that walking home at night alone won’t feel like a fatal mistake.
Here are the arrays of things that happened to me in this fine city of Montreal:
While walking home at night with my partner, a man on a bike called me an “Asian whore” as he rode by.
One time, when I was walking home alone, a man followed me home for about 8 blocks. Luckily, a friend that was staying at my apartment at the time was waiting outside for me and I got inside without the dude following me any longer. When I got inside, he made the “eating out” gesture at me. When I told the security guard of my building to not let the man in that night, he just said to me: “he just likes you!” I felt faint.
Recalling these incidents makes me feel angry. Yet, when those things were happening, all I could sense was pure fear, which made me only want to flee the scene and not confront it. When I was aware of that man following me home, I ran a few scenarios in my head where he would force me to come inside the apartment with me. Then all of my desire to yell at him evaporated, because God forbid I anger him any more. What if he would want to punish me for my behaviour? And because I have been socialized and educated to believe my own helplessness, this is what happened in my head:
(Except, you know, it only became funny in hindsight.)
The crippling fear of men who are stronger and bigger than me makes me hate myself, because I feel like a silent accomplice who allows these terrible things to happen to me by fulfilling the helpless woman stereotype. Or even worse, a meek Asian woman stereotype. (Racialicious has an excellent piece about street harassment and race)
I wish the first response that comes to mind when someone approaches me in an aggressive manner is not to run, but to confront it and make that person feel bad for what (s)he is doing. I’m not sure when or if I’ll reach the stage where I will be confident enough to confront the situation. But I’m working on it. The other day, when a man told me my dress was pretty and asked whether I was from “China or Hong Kong” I said “no thanks” while looking straight into his eyes. It’s a small step.
I have a complicated relationship with Forever 21. I don’t like their marketing practices and their creepy proselytizing so I stay away. but sometimes I get the urge to go in because things seem so impossibly cheap. So I go in, get overwhelmed by a sea of synthetic fabrics and aggressive teenagers, then hate myself for getting interested in their products in the first place.
Sounds like a healthy relationship, no?
The other day, the Urge struck as I was walking on St-Catherines street. But my guilt/interest quickly turned into something else as I saw this:
Cute Oriental girl on a chain! How hip and ironic! These don’t seem identical to the “Oriental Girl” necklace that got the chain in hot water awhile back, but the concept seems to be similar enough.
Honestly, I don’t know what to make of these. I don’t want to wear something like this. It also seems wrong that they would single out and reduce certain cultural identities — like the “Native American Girl” as well as the “Oriental Girl” — to be worn like decoration (at a bargain price of $3.99 CAD or $1.50 US, nonetheless). But of course, a Huffington Post poll on the very same subject seems to reveal that I am yet again the humourless and sour person who takes everything too seriously.
In the end, I left the store empty-handed as I should’ve, and bought this cute zebra necklace instead, from the great Mary Jane, whose online shop is full of quirky vintage goods. Support local business, don’t contribute to questionable business practices, and don’t own a weird jewellery depicting stereotypes. Win-win, right?
It seems like everyone is very interested in what women are doing in their bedrooms, and who they’re doing things with. And such intrusive interest has gone beyond the usual victims of Hollywood starlets to others.
There’s a recent scandal involving a Canadian woman (who is not a Hollywood star, I might add) who is going through a public inquiry because she is an adult who liked to have sex, and had a husband who might have been too eager to offer up her private photos to the internet. This was a pretty big media story in Canada until the Olympics started, but I won’t mention her name here because I don’t want to be adding to the number of Google searches that mention her private affairs rather than her professional ability.
From what I can gather, the story seems to boil down to this: the woman and her husband (who was also in the legal profession) had an active sex life. In fact, the husband seems to have enjoyed exhibiting his wife’s sexuality very freely online, without his wife’s consent. He even solicited one of his clients on his wife’s behalf without her knowledge.
These are juicy stories, I won’t deny that. But why are these making national headlines? Why are we questioning a person’s professional ability (which doesn’t happen to be connected to her sexuality, by the way) to do her job based on what she does in her bedroom?
I wonder why we’re so appalled when we find out “real” women have been sexual — and sexual in a way that is “off script” — when marketing seems to push it on us constantly. I wonder, with so many photos being snapped these days and stored god-knows-where, how anyone would ever be able to keep a job, if this kind of shaming is becoming the norm.
