Do as I say, Not as I do: Social Justice in Academia

Academia is so much like church sometimes it sickens me. The final straw would be a collection plate going around with the professor/preacher justifying why your money should continue to go in. Then again, that comes in the form of tuition and fees, so there's no need. What there continues to be a need for, is the kind of preaching, certain churches are notorious for; where in order to make a point--and usually a weak one--some entity needs to be berated as an example of why the teaching makes sense. Sure we could all be a little kinder to each other, but did you have to bash the shit out of so-and-so's point of view just now? Where is the kindness in that? Oh you mean we should enact a kind of social justice that is connective and compassionate but will judge the crap out of anyone who uses commercial means like the only store in town in order to make such connectiveness a reality? Real classy. And just what are people supposed to do to share resources, make them out of whatever is around the house? Am I going to turn my nose up at somebody's contribution just because I came from a huge corporation? Hell to tha naw! I will instead be grateful as all get out that we were able to pool our resources enough to help each other out at all.  Growing food and sharing it is one thing, but is a potluck really that bad if someone made an apple pie from the apples they can only afford to buy at Wally's World? Has the spirit of community been undermined by such a heinously evil act? Hard not to get that messaging from a person who will turn around and try not to be classist about the fact that sometimes our choices are that limited when it comes to shopping.

Judgement is often cast the harshest within the walls of academia with the don't do this or this, and then turn around and do just that because that's how they keep their jobs. Not cool dude, not cool. How am I supposed to model this ideal behavior when I keep receiving the exact kind of modeling I've been receiving for years, only this time it's packaged as somehow radical or liberatory? Can't help but see right through that one. Not to say that there is no hope. I mean at least the professor/preacher is mindful enough to know what is happening is f--ed up, just not enough to know when they are participating in the perpetuation of it. We are complex creatures, we human beings, but those who find themselves in positions of power and privilege  either flaunt it shamelessly or pretend like they aren't doing it or that they even have such things! And this is not a pipe (that I wish I were using to bash my brains out for having once more subjected myself to such nonsense)! But I digress, just like the other beloved preacher/professors who love to go off on the kind of tangents reminiscent of the kind found in "Don't be a Menace" when that reformed prisoner is preaching away. And is it really the so-called leaders in academia that should really be sought out as potential enactors of social justice? This is not what I intend to be about. I try to live it, but who am I kidding?

Of course I am guilty of judging and would try to justify it with some reasoning like, isn't the point of judgment to know what not to do in the quest to reclaim oneself, to adhere to a higher ideal even? How does one respond compassionately to such happenings? To listen without judgment is perhaps my greatest challenge. To pull from what is heard and unheard gems that help get us or maybe it's just me closer to actualizing the underlying messages of community and education that undermine and perhaps undo the status quo that were intended to be preached about. In the meantime, I need a break and a place to find my own way for a while. Modeling the kinds of behaviors that lend to compassionate and loving community and education are what I thrive off of. I honestly can't expect to do it without perpetuating the very modeling I've come across to date. Where to find that kind of modeling is a mystery. To think I could solve it myself is a rather lofty mistake to make.

Victimization and the “Strong Black Woman’s” response: A dry run at expression

When someone asks “is she really the victim here?” and follows up with “As a black woman she likely has some power in the situation,” it is a challenge on two fronts. On the one hand, the listener is challenged with considering this as a possibility which means further pondering what kind of power a woman could have in this situation and to what extent the power one has is also racialized. On the other hand the listener is challenged with the assumption that once more, she is likely to be blamed as the cause of her own demise. It’s even worse when a black man posits this question and dichotomizes responses among women especially black women i.e. the strong black woman’s response versus the black feminist response; where both groups place their blackness and womanhood on the stereotypical dominantly derived hierarchy and are thus mandated to view them as a negative juxtaposition.

Should I be considered black first and a woman second? This seems to suggest that I put my womanity on the back burner in favor of highlighting my blackness.  Black people have long been subordinated as a group and made to feel as though our lives are hardly meaningful and worth snuffing out on a moment’s notice. So, is this to say that in situations where black men are being called into account for treating black women in this very way that my blackness should be at the forefront of any response made? If so what response should that be? According to the strong black woman mythos, the suggested response is to “stand by your man” because we are both black and our spirits and lives have been similarly disheveled. But look what ends up escaping the attention of both groups; a battered black woman. But hey she’s strong, she’s black and she certainly is not a victim right? Her blackness is what gives her her power, her strength. What ends up happening is a familiar sort of abandonment, especially when it appears the black male counterpart was provoked into doing such dastardly deeds. It’s almost as if to say, she WANTED to be attacked or else she wouldn’t have done what she did. –How this does not seem familiar when it comes to black men  having been attacked and murdered by white men  in positions of power who would claim the victim was being aggressive  and thus illicit such an uneven response on the part of black men is beyond me—The result is abandonment by black men, black women, and anybody else with a similarly dominant mindset that would rather believe they deserve what they got than be considered people worthy of living without fear of being minimized off the face of the earth.  He is upholding a status quo which is amplified by a blackness that demands his dominance over any woman. Questioning this means undermining the black man and by his logic the black community.

Why does there seem to be this insistence of this kind of “strong black woman’s” response? That she massage and soothe the black man’s wounded pride in favor of her own internal and external wounds which he insists she deserves and/ or should considered insignificant to his pain? Who is there to comfort and help her heal? Based on the black man’s response of the sort where he demands the black woman consider her blackness above all else, it appears as if he should not be expected to do such a thing blackness considered. A strong black woman could be a viable option, however if a similar mindset is at play,  then proceed with caution. What s/he can be counted on to do is reiterate how the black woman being treated this way is not the victim and is powerful. A damning eulogy for those who undergo soul and actual murder by the hands of their supposed savior—and this goes for all supposed saviors.

A powerfully painful reminder that no one is coming to our rescue; which is not to suggest a commitment to the kind of strong black woman mythos that has the iron skin and soul that equips us for our continued subordination.  Rather it is a painful reminder that no one is going to neither hold him responsible nor make him change his mind about us as beings who deserve the unconditional care and support as he does. When his love and support is given on the condition of your unyielding subordination it is hard to imagine him as any different from the people he claims to be protecting us from. (near tears when considering this possible truth)

She needs a community that looks out for her unconditionally and without judgment. A community that can model for her what that looks, feels, sounds, and acts like. A space where her blackness and womanity are acknowledged as parts of her whole self not to be minimized or negatively juxtaposed as competing entities.What kinds of space exist like this beyond family and friends (which can also be problematic depending on what dynamics exist within these settings)? How can we get to a place where, when taken as a whole, we are valued and value others--strength, weakness, and power included? I am continually searching for this space, albeit cautiously.   

Note: This response meant to challenge an often dominant response to black female victims of battering and/or murder--especially by those black men who inherently look down on black women who value both their blackness and womanity. By no means should this be considered a general rejection of black men, more-so a response to black men with a dominant masculine ethos. Instead it could be read as challenge to what it means to be a member of the black community in terms of love and support. When blackness has been accounted for, how are women regarded? How is this community different from a status quo that operates similarly on the grounds of gender, let alone sexuality when it comes to expressions of power? What would it mean to truly liberate ourselves from such continued nonsense? Why do we continue to find such responses acceptable?     

Problems with being me

Ho hum, here I go again!

I was just at a going away gathering and came away feeling rather embarrassed. In trying to go with the flow with trying to start conversations and introduce myself—like I normally don't—I ended up making a fool out of myself several times. This is me however. I don't always say the right things at the right time, I was never that cool to begin with, so attempts seem quite futile at times. I knew it would be rude to be the odd wallflower on the margins, so I figured I would just be me, and ended up being weird. What causes that extra sting is that I was around other black people like myself for once. Except when I speak or be myself, I am reminded that I am not like other black people, and that they more than likely have a strong desire to disown me. 

The dream goggles of marginal acceptance came off when a certain so-and-so showed up acting like he didn't know me and only bothered to speak to me—to say bye—when I was saying my goodbyes. I honestly have given this person no real tangible reason to dislike me as much as he clearly does—I mean the nonverbal cues speak volumes. Tonight however, a scenario popped into my head that involved me actually confronting this attitude ridden stranger, punching him in the face several times and saying “Now you have a tangible reason not to like me...chump!” and then walking off with only shocked stares following ("Steppin' Razor" is playing in the background). 

The fact that I am so bothered by such continual occurrences means I have a long way to go before gaining a true sense of self acceptance. What makes this challenging is knowing that around anybody, but especially other black people, I feel like I am in permanent high school. I can't escape from the constant judgment that comes with me being myself! It's not that I'm a total slob or anything, I just “talk funny” and have a rather awkward demeanor at times. I'm not sure what else has me being elected for an even more marginalized status than usual but it kills the shit out of my self-confidence, and I'm fricken 29! Time and time again I ask myself, WHAT DID I DO? What did I do to offend these people so? What am I to these people? 

I know I sound like a whiny victim; I just cant help it when stuff like this keeps coming up. I honestly do nothing but try to be polite and strike up some semblance of a conversation. Yet, all I get is brick walls of attitude  like I am unworthy of being taken seriously as a human being for some reason! What would these people say about me if I were to die tomorrow I wonder? These people who could give two farts about me on any given day? It is soul crushing to feel so alone because I'm not this, that or black enough. Ugh, how scummy must I appear to these people, my so-called fellow human beings? If any of those people needed help tomorrow, I would give my all to do what I could, while those same people—especially mr. so-and-so—would probably set me on fire if they thought they could get away with it (and in this town they probably could).

Here I am trying to find a path toward healing, understanding, and love, and I keep coming back to stuff like this. I am certainly not thrilled by such inner turmoil and am troubled by not knowing when or how to get to a place where stuff like this doesn't bother me because I am okay with who I am enough to know that no real harm is meant by these people (or maybe I'm dreaming again). Days like this make me want to close up permanently. However I cannot help but revert to that childhood self that loves reaching for the stars and the heavens. Maybe my people (real non-shady, awesome people) are up there too. How to strengthen myself to the point where I can withstand the dangers of reaching is a mystery that is yet to be solved.  

Institutional Turmoil

“It is the mind in us that yields to the laws made by us, but never the spirit in us.”

--Kahlil Gibran

There is so much going on in my head lately. Much of it has to do with being a living contradiction within a living contradiction of a graduate program. Why is it that no one wants to discuss the reproduction taking place simultaneously with the critique and resistance of the status quo within which we reside? How can ideals of change, justice and betterment be professed and aspired to, when at the drop of a hat, the maintenance of oppressive structures are upheld and enforced on Others perceived to be a threat? What happened to conflict resolution; to understanding; to putting in the work that goes toward defying the status quo which means dealing with discomforting things, people, ideas? We talk of disruption as a powerful tool that leads to a multitude of possibilities in ways of being that are possible, yet treat those people, things, and ideas that disrupt as a problematics in need of reprimanding if not removal.

I am constantly struggling with finding my voice and expressing it with confidence. When I experience the turmoil of these contradictions taking place, I am bewildered. I thought the point of the academic endeavor was to become a self-actualized scholar, which meant journeying through the landscape of ideas and issues and emerging with the formulation of one's own voice and way of knowing and doing things. Yet I am a witness to the shaping power of our figure heads, and the reality that these people hold our lives and livelihoods in their hands. It is they who must sign the paper of approval. How can I think that I have the power to become when it has to meet the approval of the powers that be? Yet the powers that be behave as if they have no power; as though we are their colleagues; that is until we are either met with bureaucratic realities of things like coursework, exams, and other tests of measurement, or in need of usually negative sanctioning.

Must I always conform to what is inherently contradictory? I am clearly not okay with this yet feel as though, when attempting to articulate this inner turmoil, that it is the institution that is defended by way of the issue being made personal, rather than effectively examined with alternatives to be considered. The people with power are suddenly powerless to the workings of the institution and those that have a problem can either shape up and conform or just go away. Those that have been treated well by the institution have a hard time seeing things as troubling, reducing responses to critiques of it as a personal problem to be met with individualized solutions. And so the ways of institutionalization continue.  

But I don't want it to be this way! I want meaningful work and relationships to emerge from my journey. For the powerful to be transparent in their power yet open to alternatives to institutional ways of being.  For those around me and myself to be willing to work with and through the troubling for the sake of being all the better for it instead of silencing it. I want a mentor, friend, and collaborator, not just someone to defer to because of their position. I want to be okay with expressing what's in my soul without fear of being shut down. Challenge me, but not for the purpose of belittling. I am in need of much nurturing and realize that institutions don't hug back, but refuse to believe that those that have been institutionalized   have no humanity, no soul, no desire to make things different. It doesn't have to be this way. When will we let our spirits, knowing and feeling what is right, lead us? 

Occupied by someone else's Love: a critical review

Here's my scrappy perception of the film Occupy Love

Firstly the film as a documentary is overtly academic. A question is being asked in a way that assumes that everyone knows what is being asked and why. That question is something along the lines of 'how is what you're doing--as a social activist--or what is going on--with fill-in-the-blank social movement--part of or a reflection of a love story?' or something along these lines. When the film maker mentioned that most people looked at him like he was crazy, no one wondered why. Silly people! Can't you see what this man is trying to say?! That seems to be an exaggerated response but a noteworthy one nonetheless. No one bothered to consider that the idea of love or the romanticizing of a particular aspect of social movements--that they are happening--should be examined or discussed before acting on it in such a universalized manner. No one else felt troubled by the combination of Occupy and Love besides me? The idea of Occupation as a historically problematic phenomenon that is in direct opposition to Love is in need of consideration as I see it.

And that's when it hit me.

This film is part of a trilogy that documents one man's understanding of people's engagement in social movements. Three films that show a progression of one person's understanding of a thing that feature individuals and groups that serve as a conduit through which this understanding is reached and expressed. When approached in this way, my understanding of the film remains that it is one that is academic, because it is a documentary, but one with a deeply personal, borderlining on selfish purpose.  

It would be great if these films were the start of a conversation rather than a giant assumption of the perception of various social movements. In a multitude of ways, he was on to something. Our connection to one another, the love that spurs one to act or react to various crises, the messiness of love.  Yet this messiness is not something that is examined. Only the happening of this lovely thing was celebrated.

Again I must remind myself that this is a documentation of one person's perceptions of a social phenomenon. The documentarian is the star of the story, the people featured are  the supporting cast. The truth of this is well masked by way of film in a way similar to academics and their use of jargon. The picture painted is one that says this is what is happening. Not often does the document express, this is my understanding of what is happening. Such  a monologue should be open to conversation, especially when it comes to love and the occupation of it. I mean, what are we talking about here? What should we be talking about? Should love be thought of in this way? What do you mean by love? No one was privy to this conversation, only the assumption that love has to be what is going on here.

That along with unacknowledged white privilege--as in at times  the film seemed like this  guy's safari experience with social movements, which included some pretty dangerous moments that privilege likely allowed him to escape, in other words, his investment was in the storytelling not in the people with their complex humanity being used to tell the story; indeed he always had a way in and out and no meaningful connections to any place or people in particular, not to mention his anybody can do it attitude about telling these stories with no sense of the politics involved in getting such stories made or heard--were my points of discomfort with this film.  My moments of hopefulness were found in the connections made with the hope that emerges from critical moments in time, our ability to come together and act, and a sense of love and spirit that is the essence of such actions.

It would be cool if a multitude of folks made responses to this film that become a multidimensional discussion about love and social movements--especially those that highlight the messiness, contradictions, and counternarratives that exist as part of these things. There is constellation of truths to be found within a topic that veers dangerously close to overt romanticism.

A Love Poem

here is something i just wrote. will refine later. tentative title: love movement


what would it mean
if we could become
part of a greater constellation?
our souls connected
part of a greater treasure
love bringing us together
and what if it didn't matter
who we are?
as stars we are members of the same universe
and part of each other already
let us recognize this
about ourselves
and leave nothing to chance
let us continue our journey
of re connection
manifest love as an artform
become our own kind of cosmic stuff
have no doubt
it is worth the struggle
our souls have been crying out for us to become
to begin undoing the damage
of separation practices
forgetting that we shine brightest when we're together
so when we struggle,
let us do so in love
and be strong in our resolve
for the restoration of our cosmic souls
part of our greater whole
is always worth the effort
and i yearn to begin
----------------------------------------

until next time...

Who knew music could be so divisive part two: Coffee Shop (Mis)Adventures

The following is as close a recounting of true events, and an excuse as to why I couldn't get my work done this afternoon and will now be forced into a possible all-nighter.

So I’m trying really, really, hard to do my reading for the week . However, there is this table of young (probably sorority) women studying and one has their laptop practically blasting music of her—and the groups—persuasion. After gnashing my teeth about it for forty-five minutes or so, I finally—after repeatedly going over the variety nicest possible ways to ask without coming off as upset—ask the young woman if she could either pop in her headphones or turn down or off her music altogether, mentioning that it was really distracting to my studies (and a gentleman behind the studytable in question quietly chimed his agreement) .  Her response: “If you say please”. So I did in an oozing manner, all the while smiling. She shut off her music, I said my thanks and went back to my table to continue reading. But my focus drifted off to the fact that once again I am too slow on the snappy comebacks.

 “If you say please?” Did you ask any of us if we wanted to listen to your music in the first place?

“If you say please?” Were we even a consideration before you started blasting your tunes for everyone to hear?

“If you say please?” Excuse me, but do not imply that I am the one without the manners here. You were the one that didn’t even ask anyone if you could play your music loud in the first place.

“If you say please?” Yeah, I realize how uncivil I was for not saying please, but do you realize how uncivil you were for not even asking?

But I’m the one in the wrong for not saying please? If equivalent exchange is the issue, then the correct reaction would have been to go right up to her laptop and shut her music off, since that is the same level of respect she accorded the others and myself.  Politics of politeness is interesting in a given context. I couldn’t help but feel like the typical minority, the person who has to go out of her way to be polite when it is my space that is being forcibly infringed upon. Reads a lot like much of the history of most colonized folks. Being regarded as a child who must oblige the unjust adult is just humiliating. Dignity continually torn to shreds at the thought of similar scenarios.

 Being the passive one doesn’t help, yet I knew that being confrontational with comebacks would have blown up the situation and all I wanted to do was study. Instead I look like a fool and am stuck wondering about that fact and this muffed up scenario for the rest of the day. Study time was officially ruined, and I had tons of shizz to do.

When pondering the ways in which I could ask this woman to shut off the tunes, I was also pondering the dissertation titles, “The Politics of playing Music in Public Spaces: Music as a form of post-colonization” and “Would you please turn that down/off?: Politics and Post-Colonization of Space”.  I was also fantasizing about being uncivil for reals. Forget my fantasy pal Louie Ville, the slugger and him chomping on some knee caps. Nah, I was ready to introduce AK-47, whom would initially be pointed at “Miss Please” before totally decimating her precious Mac, after I said “No” in response to her mandate “If you say please”.  How’s that for civility? The idea of bustin caps was in need of an upgrade anyway. Now I just need to make these little misadventures and violent-yet-comical fantasy responses into a comic.

 Only a passive-aggressive person would think of such a thing as a release. Of course there’s the matter of not being considered a danger to society, unlike the folks who get away with making all sorts of violent films and shows that desensitize us to erroneous acts of violence on a daily basis.

Note: Racial and gendered undertones of this response are implied. Most of you will know what I’m getting at.

Until next time…