On street harassment

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.

Why the burqa ban in France matters to all of us

I was going to do an outfit post, then changed my mind once I realized the burqa ban in France goes into effect today. It somehow seems wrong for me to write about what I get to wear freely every day when there are other women who are put in jail for the exact same thing.

I have a few things to say about this. First of all, Nicolas Sarkozy’s statement that the ban is about women in France being “respected” or “personal dignity, particularly women’s dignity” (quoted in this Jezebel article on the ban) is not only grossly condescending to Muslim women, but highly problematic on other levels. By banning the burqa under the pretense of protecting women’s dignity, the French government is placing inherent value on a garment, rather than letting the individuals make meaning out of the garment on their own. So the underlying assumption here is that if you wear a burqa, you are an oppressed person who doesn’t know any better. This creates a false logic/binary of covering vs. not covering; as in, if being covered head to toe signifies oppression, showing skin – no matter what context – is liberatory. I think any critical thinker can tell that such logic does not work.

The ban not only has consequences for Muslim women directly, but also for Western women, or women who do not wear the burqa. Why? Because if we extend French government’s logic, any woman who wears X garment can be read in a certain way, and ONLY in that way. It takes away the power of self-representation from women, and the agency for women to signify themselves. Women wearing short skirts might be lacking dignity too, so why not just ban short skirts too? But the government won’t do such a thing because what the non-Muslims wear is their business. Only Muslim women have no clue how to think for themselves, and are blindly (and willingly) letting themselves to be oppressed. They couldn’t possibly be wearing the niqab or the burqa as an expression of their faith or their culture.

Of course, under the rhetoric of a creepy “father” figure protecting the Muslim women is the deeply conservative and anti-immigrant suspicion of France that is at work here. It troubles me to no end that when surveyed, citizens of various countries also supported the burqa ban (as explained at the bottom of this CNN article), displaying Western culture’s deeply problematic views on Muslim women.

[clip: Niqabitch, one of many protest groups that happened when the French Senate finalized the burqa ban]

Links Roundup: awesome (but excluded) female artists, and problematic beliefs in Mississippi

During the last couple of weeks, I’ve had the pleasure of profiling Montreal’s own fine poets for the “Women In Art” Q&A series. Oana Avasilichioaei is a Montreal-based poet who founded and curated the Atwater Poetry Project from 2003 to 2008, bringing poets from all over Canada and the United States. The second conversation features Branka Petrovic, who started writing poetry during her undergrad years at McGill, and continued her journey into poetry with an MA in Creative Writing and English Literature at Concordia University.

Meet Magda O: photographer extraordinaire, DJ, and feminist scholar who is researching on women electronic artists (she will soon be relocating to Montreal from her native Toronto to start a Ph.D. at Concordia. Yes!) The stats she posted some startling stats on how many (or how few) women participate in electronic music festivals for a documentary she’s working on caught my eye this week. Bottom line: things aren’t looking good for women electronic artists.

Amy Mihyang, a Korean-American writer now living in Seoul, is performing her one-woman play “between” about her life as an adoptee of American parents. Her birth parents – she reunited with them 6 years ago – will also be attendance. I wish I was in Seoul to catch this.

According to a recent PPP Poll, almost half of Mississippi Republican voters not only believe that interracial marriage is immoral, but also believe it should be illegal. In 2011.

Links Friday: more anti-choice crazy, machetes, and fabulous fashion for all

Update on the redefining rape fiasco: the crazy people who initiated this bill have now dropped the issue, only to redirect the anti-woman discourse elsewhere. The “Protest Life Act” overrides the doctor’s responsibillity to save a pregnant woman’s life, if the fetus will die in the process. In other words, saving the fetus’s life always trumps that of the pregnant woman’s. Dear anti-abortion lawmakers, if you are so pro-life, how about backing up accessible health care that would actually ensure the quality of life in the long run? Hmm?

In North Vancouver, two Korean international students were brutally attacked by three men holding machetes. MACHETES. One of the Korean students received such severe injury to the head that he needed 7 stitches and 18 staples to close the wound. Jesus. [warning: the news clip on the link contains graphic images.]

Onto the positive: a wonderful new Tumblr called “Fa(t)shion February” calls for those who identify as femme and fat to post their outfit photos every day. Founder Jessie elaborates on her inspiration for the blog: “I was particularly inspired to create this project as a femme who often doesn’t feel that her body or aesthetic is represented in the fashion blogging that is happening (fat or otherwise).” Even though fashion blogging started as a way to “democratize” fashion and style, there definitely exists a norm on body size and style – as it is with everything else – and I think conscious interventions like this are so necessary and great. But anyone and everyone is welcome to participate!

Lastly, a bit of self-promotion: my post on scars was featured as one of this week’s “lovely links” by the popular blog Already Pretty by Sally McGraw! I love Sally’s thoughtful commentary on body image and am honoured to have my post featured on her blog.

Stop the “redefine rape” movement

I’ll keep this short, but this is important (especially to Americans):

The Republicans want to narrow down the definition of “rape” – by eliminating rape cases involving excessive amount of alcohol or drugs, date rape, and statutory rape, among others (basically, they’re saying: if a woman doesn’t look physically beaten, it wasn’t rape). They’re trying to do this by only counting “forcible rape” as “real rape.” This means women whose rape charges don’t fall under this vague category of “forcible rape” will not be eligible for financial support from the federal government when it comes to abortions.

The bill was declared a “top priority” by speaker of the house John Boehner, and has (mostly, but not ALL Republican) 173 co-sponsors.

Words cannot describe how scary this is, and how many steps backwards we will be taking in terms of women’s rights. So please, spread the word, and if you’re residing in the U.S., sign this petition to stop this bill and declare your outrage.

[Source: Mother Jones]

My trouble with the period genre

A couple nights ago, I went to see True Grit. I’m a pretty big fan of anything that the Coen brothers do cinematically; I also have a creepy old man-crush on Jeff Bridges (well, more like “can we go get a beer and talk?” kind of way), and this film had both of them in it. And the film sure didn’t disappoint – though I think it ended a little too abruptly and perhaps a touch too neatly.

Since the film’s set in the deep south in the late ’20s (or the novel is, at least, according to Wikipedia – I can’t recall if the film makes the time period clear), it does make some references to racial injustices going on at the time. But the film also makes clear that racial injustice is not its focus by treating such instances very casually and abruptly. The first reference to racial injustice happens at a hanging of three men Mattie (the main character) witnesses at the beginning of the film; while the first two white men are given a chance to leave any last word and thought, the third man, who is an American Indian, is not given that privilege. There’s also the presence of black people serving the whites, but only short glimpses without much commentary. Then when Mattie is in “Indian territory” (but curiously, there aren’t many American Indians), Cogburn (played by Jeff Bridges) casually beats up a child, who I believe is native American.

Throughout the problematic scenes, my internal dialogue sounded something like this:

SELF: Wow, that is racist!
SELF 2: I know, but what do you expect? It’s the ’20s.
SELF: That’s true. But how am I supposed to feel watching that? Glad that I don’t live in that time? Relieved that we’ve “made progress”? But we still have so far to go and this movie is making me feel like I should be thankful to live in this society and now I should just shut up about it.
SELF 2: Well, now the scene is over and you haven’t been paying attention. Happy?

If you think I’m no fun, you should try watching a movie with me in person. (now you’re never going to come to a movie with me, are you?)

Anyway, this is why I feel conflicted about watching period dramas. True Grit didn’t give me too much of a hard time, but I feel the conflict most strongly when I’m watching a show like Mad Men. Is it a progressive show? Is it a feminist show? (occasionally, my brain produces other interjections like: hey, that dress looks nice!) I often wonder, if the rich aesthetic of the show is meant to seduce us to the “simpler” times of the ’60s where sexual harassment happened without repercussion, and black people didn’t really exist (or are disposable – I guess on TV, black people still don’t exist, or exist in a very ghettoized way). Or how the show makes us feel so smug about living in the “better times,” thus maintaining the status quo and disengaging us from the present state of inequality. But then, some like Stephanie Coontz could argue that Mad Men is very feminist, because it’s willing to show the “historically accurate” version of the reality in the ’60s.

I guess I see Coontz’s point. But what I’d like to ask is this: it’s all good to see a historically accurate version of reality from a white, middle-class, heteronormative point of view, but when will we start seeing a “historically accurate” version of reality from a slave’s point of view? From a person of colour’s point of view in the ’60s? Even when a show or a film deals with race issues, it’s often about the white person’s epiphany of the existence of racism. When can I start seeing that epiphany in a person of colour?

[True Grit image from indieWIRE.com, Mad Men image from AMCtv.com]

my piece on CFRC radio!

[this post was originally posted on the invazn]

A bit of self-promotion here – but the invazn was featured on Kingston’s independent radio station CFRC’s “The Massive,” a program dedicated to anti-racism/anti-oppression issues, news, and underground music. One of the DJs hosting the show is a good friend, and she approached me after reading my piece “does it get better?”, and asked me if she could read it on the show. Of course, I said yes.

To access the clip, type in “2010/12/20″ and “1900″ in the time slot, on the CFRC Archives page.

My piece “does it get better (for women of colour)?” gets read out loud at 24:05 minutes. The rest of the program is great too, with other great spoken word clips on living as a woman of colour, and of course, awesome political music. Thanks again, The Massive! It was such an honour to hear my piece read out loud, and hear personal reactions to it.

Does it get better [for women of colour]?

[this was originally posted on the invazn]

I’ve been thinking a lot about growing up lately, especially growing up as a minority identity after watching Dan Savage’s “It Gets Better” project unfold. If I were influential enough to start a similar campaign for young girls of colour everywhere, would I be able to confidently tell them that it will in fact get better when they get to be 18, 22, or 35?

The truth is, life gets more complicated as one’s racial consciousness awakens, and the burden of being a visible minority never gets lighter.

In a way, perhaps it has the potential to get worse as we learn the ways of the world, about concepts like institutionalized racism. How can I express the feeling of betrayal and hopelessness I felt when it became crystal lear that racism is so embedded, so naturalized within society that we are trained to not see it, to self-hate and hate others for not being a blank slate?

How can I describe the fear I felt at reading about hate crimes targeted towards interracial couples that happened in Canada as recently as this summer?

How can I articulate the shame I felt about having an egg-and-ketchup sandwich at the age of 12, when these things mattered all the world, and couldn’t help but hate my own mother for trying, trying so hard, but failing to be “Canadian” like other mothers? How can I express my guilt and sadness for hating my parents for where they came from for so long?
I can’t.

So how should I go on, and how should we all go on? I have no answers, and I cannot, with good conscience, look at a camera and say confidently that life will get better.

But I can say this.

Dear young woman of colour,

I apologize that I have no real words of comfort for your future.

But please know that I understand:

every ounce of shame you’ve shed for feeling different
even though that person only was curious,
only had good intentions when he or she reminded you of your otherness.

I know

that you may question your motive for being attracted to someone who is
outside of your race
because if you may wonder
does he/she like me for me?
or my skin colour?

(and you’ll never know, or at least, never trust the answers)

And your friends and family may wonder out loud:
is she a traitor to her culture?
does she just want to move “up”?

And maybe you just want to give up because it’s easier
to follow everyone’s expectations;

you may not know what makes you happy anymore,

amongst mixed messages that say you should be both

obedient and integrated

but still

separate.

So,
I don’t know if it gets better

as you grow older, as you grow into the othered consciousness

that you express mostly through self-deprecation,

uncomfortable smiles

and distractions.

And I’m sorry that we may fail you in battling racism
that difference is (still) more or less a dirty word.

But please know that there are allies. Others who feel the same way as you do.

Of course, nobody feels the exact pain that you had. Do not let anybody tell you that they know exactly how you feel, and prescribe a solution.

More importantly: do not let anybody tell you that your emotions are not real. Never ever succumb to those that want to rationalize your legitimate hurt. Because if they succeed in doing that, they succeed in taking your history away. They succeed in quashing the uniqueness that makes you powerful, just so they could sleep better at night.

And please know that while life may not get so much better, it does get better when you can find your voice, and others like yours.

I still make do because other stories from women of colour opened my eyes to tell my own.

And your stories will inspire others that come later to continue fighting, and hopefully exist in a society where our skin colours, our cultures, and our languages are no longer a burdern

but just a part of you.

Why I won’t laugh at your rape and racist jokes

Does this give you the funnies?

The repulsive internet phenomenon of the week goes to the Facebook page “It’s not rape…It’s SURPRISE SEX.” For real, this page exists, and it has over 42,000 people who “like” it. The page founder claims that the page was only supposed to be a “joke” because the name comes from comedian Jimmy Carr. Needless to say, there’s nothing hilarious or acceptable about this. I’ve reported this group to Facebook under the reason “direct call for violence.” You can do it too by going to the page and click on “report this page” on the bottom-left corner.

On similar note, I want to say something about “jokes” that are offensive. A lot of everyday racism gets a pass under the guise of being “comedy,” but that doesn’t make it any more okay. Sure, I get that things like satire and self-deprecation can work wonders to ease the pain of everyday racism, but those things can only be used by the victims of racism, or marginalized groups.

I’ve already written about comedy before, but let me take this opportunity to say a bit more about the dangers of problematic ideas passing as “jokes.” once I sat through a painfully awkward and kind of terrible comedy show. My former neighbour – a comedian pretty active in the Montreal circles – invited me and friends to what can be called a “rehearsal” between him and his friends before they got onstage for bigger festivals like Just for Laughs. Since the show was free and I had nothing else to do, I happily said yes and brought some friends along.

But what I saw that night wasn’t comedy; it was just a bunch of misogynist slurs from an obviously broken-hearted man about women being “crazy,” then some healthy racism thrown in to make it even better.
One of “comedians” (a white man, of course, but thankfully not my neighbour) made a very problematic slur about Asians. I was sitting in the front row in the very small and intimate pub (there were maybe about 10-15 people in the audience), and I showed very obviously that I found the joke neither funny nor amusing. After the disaster of a show, he asked me outside: “hey, did you find that joke okay?” – of course, because I was one of the few Asian members in the audience (I think it was just me and my friend Marc who could be identified as Asian in the audience) which made me an expert on All Matters Asian. I told him no, it was not okay, and that it’s racist. To my comment, he responded: “well, it’s just something we used to say in the 90s, you know?” The 90s! Like that makes it okay!
It was an example of how a lot of mainstream “comedy” is just insecure white heterosexual masculinity venting against the “other” supposedly emasculating forces.

To the “calm down, it’s just a joke, can’t you laugh at anything?” camp: I do appreciate comedy that can be smart and insightful. Comedy can be a powerful tool that exposes the contradictions of society – which is what I get from watching people like Margaret Cho and Paul Mooney. But as I said before, these are people of colour who examine the absurdity of racial stereotypes (and sexual ones, for Cho) and make us confront them too. That being said, I am aware that such comedy may lose its delicacy and complexity when facing a younger audience. For example, my 16-year-old brother, who watched endless amounts of The Chappelle Show, just thinks black people are crazy crack heads as he continues his sheltered existence in a mainly white suburb.

I can’t seem to write a pithy conclusion after all these diversions – so I will summarize my scattered post in three short points:

a) We should absolutely take any “jokes” that perpetuate violence/racism/misogyny/homophobia/transphobia seriously because they affect how we perceive the “norm” – in many cases, white heteronormative patriarchy.
b) Good comedy that’s smart and does not put down one group of people for cheap laughs DOES exist, though they may lose their “goodness” when received by different people.
c) Please report the Facebook Page and spread the word.

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