Capstone Reflection

I'm attaching the link for the video I did at our recent Capstone presentation at UWB, May 19th. I selected the title based on researching the boarding school experience; a man said that the day he let go of his mothers' hand was the day he lost his innocence. I chose to cover the historical account of boarding schools in a video as I felt it allowed me to deliver a lot of information in a short amount of time. I began with photos of Native Americans dressed in their regalia and a few other items such as a woven hat and intricate bead work. Often history would like to portray Native Americans as uncivilized and savage. These complex images shows that they were not. The rest of the video will speak for itself. One of the main reasons I chose this topic is personal, both my parents were in boarding schools and I have lived with the impact of that historical trauma all of my life.

I should note that this was only an introduction and the remainder of the time I tried to focus on the positive efforts being done to reduce the Native American Achievement Gap. It is important for me not to frame this account as perpetrators & victims, but as a resilient people overcoming the oppressive acts waged against them ~ that we did not only survive but we will thrive~. The future of Indian students is not doomed because it is in our power to help them succeed. And in the words of Sitting Bull, "Come let us put our minds together and see what life we can make for our children." I believe we will rise to the occasion and ensure that our Indian kids get the education all students deserve. ;p

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iYgd6XJYo9I


Best,

Mona

Will the madness ever stop? Psychology Today

http://act.colorofchange.org/sign/psychtoday

Thanks Paul for sending this article on! Psychology Today recently ran a story claiming it to be scientific fact that Black women are less beautiful than women of other races. If you'd like to take action and demand that Psychology Today apologize go to the link above and let your voice be heard!

Best,

Mona

As Technology Evolves, New Forms of Online Racism Emerge

Posted by Mona


As Technology Evolves, New Forms of Online Racism Emerge
March 13, 2011, 10:15 pm
By Jeff Young

Austin, Tex.—New forms of online racism are emerging as video games add audio-chat features, and as popular online games draw a more global audience.

That was the message of a panel of academics and journalists at this year’s South by Southwest Interactive conference, an annual event that brings together video-game designers, social-media leaders, and cultural critics looking for the latest technology trends.

A famous New Yorker cartoon has long summed up the anonymizing power of cyberspace: “On the Internet, nobody knows you’re a dog.” But in some popular video games and in social virtual worlds like Second Life, chat features have been added in the past few years, essentially proving the cartoon outdated. The addition of human voices has led people to make assumptions about the players based on their speech, often on the basis of race. That’s according to research cited at the conference by Lisa Nakamura, a professor of Asian-American studies at the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign.

One of the most recent studies she mentioned was one done by Gambit, a video-game lab run jointly by the Massachusetts Institute of Technology and Singapore. The study is known as the Gambit Hate Speech Project, and its leaders have released highlights of their findings in a series of online videos.

Ms. Nakamura [sic]¹ said she has been more surprised by completely new kinds of racism on some popular online video games that now count players around the world. For instance, in China large numbers of users began earning a living playing Diablo 2, winning virtual weapons in the fantasy role-playing game and selling their online loot to people in the United States who did not have time to play as many hours to arm their characters. Many of the players chose to play as a female dwarf, a class in the game that can more easily win treasure on solo missions. And so other players began killing all dwarfs in the game, often adding anti-Chinese slurs in the chat section of the game as they did, says Ms. Nakamura.

“What happened was that female dwarfs become an unplayable race” in the game, she said. “They basically became a racial minority,” she added, “with the same status as immigrant workers—they become a race, which is an interesting thing.”

“Race doesn’t happen because of biology—it happens because of culture,” she concluded.

W. James Au, author of the book The Making of Second Life, said online games and forums where participants are anonymous seem to be growing more slowly these days, and the most popular networks, including Facebook, match users to their offline identities. When anonymity disappears, people are generally more civil. “The shift to real identities online helps get rid of racism,” he said.

All of the participants on the panel, including the moderator, Jeff Yang, a blogger for the San Francisco Chronicle, said the topic of race online is rarely discussed, despite frequent instances of hate speech in online environments. “The topic is talked about less than it should be in talking about the power of digital media,” he told the audience when introducing the panel.

In an interview after the session, Ms. Nakamura, who co-edited a new book due out in a few weeks called Race After the Internet, said that more attention to the issue has been paid lately, as part of discussions of cyberbullying.

What would it take to draw a broader discussion of the issue?

“There has to be a high-profile killing probably—I hate to say that,” she said. “It has to be a big media event.”

Note
1. The article mistakenly refers to Professor Nakamura as "Ms. Nakamura," a common "error" when referring to women of color in higher ed.

Journal

Posted by Theryn

Journal
February 24, 2011

This post is a hybrid between a recent journal entry for my capstone on lynching and a textual analysis of a piece by Stephen A. Berrey. As my new auto-ethnographer voice is morphing into a particular style weaving personal story, theory, and the subjectivies of Black women, this particular submission is reflective of the way I am positioning my research and storytelling style against a historical moment when family and community demonstrates a centrality to teaching children about racial rules of engagement with Jim Crow South. This piece should be considered as a growing work in progress.

When I was 5 years old, the teacher at Ft. Carson Elementary wanted to hold me back for another year of Kindergarten. My parents fought hard against this suggestion and I was allowed to continue onto 1st grade. Though I do not remember the details of why the suggestion was made, I do remember a moment of resistance I demonstrated, one my mother often allude to while retelling me about the multiple arguments she and my father had with school officials about my “insolent” behavior. I came to know this significant moment of resistance as the Greg Bernard incident. It was the first memory that I have of my father supporting my willfulness and refusal to be mistreated in a public school setting. It would not be the last either.

My parents had just moved to Fort Carson, Colorado in Colorado Springs. I was enrolled in Ft Carson Elementary School at 5 and Greg Bernard became my bully. He was a fairer skinned Black boy with light brown eyes and a sandy brown Afro. One day he decided to continually insult me all morning long. Calling me “fat,” “a dumb girl,” and I am sure a slue of other 5 year old type insults. I had asked my teacher to make him stop but she told me to “just get back to work.” I tried but was harassed even more so once Greg realized that he could get away with being cruel to me because our teacher refused to stop him or acknowledge that he was even doing anything wrong. I then began to hurl my own insults. “Shut up Greg SAINT Bernard!” Suddenly my teacher got involved by telling me to be quiet or I that would have to go to the Principles office. I felt terribly hurt and egregiously wronged. I wondered how it was that our teacher could ask me to ignore Greg but that when I began to fight back just a little, I was the one threatened with a visit to the Principle’s office?

This became the first indication that there was an unspoken solidarity between white women and Black men. More specifically and at the very least, that a white woman and a black male could be complicit in the act of one perpetuating cruelty and the other turning their back. Further, that a black woman could be punished for resisting this kind of treatment. That is when I decided to lay down in the threshold of the doorway that lead to the outside and block my entire class until my teacher made Greg apologize to me. I am not sure how long we stayed there but I remember repeating over and over again, “make him apologize and then I’ll get up!” I said this in the way that children have a habit of resisting auditory commands by covering their ears and singing “la-la la la-la, la-la la la-la, la-la la la-la.” Eventually, the school called my father and he was none to pleased when he arrived.


I then remember looking down and seeing shiny black combat boots as I looked away from my pleading classmates, irate teacher, and shocked Greg toward the ground outside. They were as I looked away from my pleading classmates, irate teacher, and shocked Greg toward the ground outside. They were my dad’s boots. I knew them from their gentle appearance underneath my eyes. As I slide my eyes upward the meet my father stern Army Sergeant glare his left brow slightly raised. With a crisp but careful and loving restrain, my dad said, “get up!” And I did. As we walked away from the school he asked me why did I do that? In tears, I told him about the whole situation. He put his arm around me and we just went home. When we arrived, my mother said, “Heywood?” “What are you doing home and WHY are you here?” She then looked at me and said, “what took YOU so long?” My dad explained what had happened and when my mother asked why he did not “whup” me on the spot (thank god my father that kind of thing-whew) he replied, “Evelyn, she’s 5.” He continued, “if she is showing this level of resistance, then I am not going to punish her for it.” “Why would we punish her for standing up for what she believed was a just cause?” My mother was stunned. The anger in her face crept away as she asked me if I wanted a snack.

This pattern of my resisting the affronts of boys and instructors I felt were being either racist or sexist or both was accompanied by the pattern of my parents always getting my back within institutional settings…well mostly bricks and mortar schools both public and private. They loved my siblings and I hard. They guarded our safety fiercely. This was our family’s way and being the first Black family to integrate our working class neighborhood with children, my parents had their work was cut out for them.

Mom and dad carried lessons from the violent south of what could happen to children left unprotected. Evelyn and Heywood protected their children fiercely through stories, strategies of code switching survival tactics when in the company of white folks, and they trained us to advocate for our selves and each other regardless of who stepped to us. They demonstrated bravery in a world of racist cowards.

In Resistance Begins at Home: The Black Family and Lessons in Survival and Subversion in Jim Crow Mississippi, Stephen A. Berrey speaks of similar racial lessons taught to children by parents and communities in an effort to arm them with strategies for survival in American south apartheid. Not that I have read it prior to taking this course but that I have lived a similar experience with learning to survive from family all to familiar with Jim Crow South.

Black family as the site of racial pride and alternative narratives of Blackness rooted in racial pride but also a site of gender strength. In Resistance, Berry points to the work of Jennifer Rittenhour in the set of “racial rules” that guide a strategy of surviving relationships between dominant white and subordinate that were adjusted according to varying day to day engagement. This process of racial rules behavior indicates the movement of performative stances folks enacted for the purposes of survival in Jim Crow South (Berry, p. 66; Rittenhour, 2006).

In Resistance, Berrey selects themes and discourses from 25 years of oral historical artifacts from a multitude of collections and initiatives of oral accounts about life during Jim Crow (Berry, p 66). I do not. That is, I do not draw on the oral accounts that stem from an archived record of experiences offered by a multitude if different voices. My work differs very much from Berrey at this point. My artifacts come from my own family members and my own recollection of stories my parents used to tell about growing up in Louisiana and West Virginia. Also, the stories that I pull together for my capstone project are less about building an argument on the ways Jim Crow apartheid affected the Black Family and more specifically on how the lynching of my Great, Great grandfather, Miles Taylor, influenced the racial lessons thought to my siblings and I by my parents through the retelling of the Mile’s murder. My research also examines how this and other stories provided racial learnings that reveal the way lynching events effect African American family development (Beauchamp, 2005).

Further, my work argues that the practice of lynching erased the subjectivies of lynching victims and their families and that this erasure was replaced with a production of a sub-human and non-human subject that could be acted upon violently. The way this sits in terms of the African American family can be seen through attacks against Black women as mother figures. “Degrading mythology about Black mothers is one aspect of a complex set of stereotypes that deny Black humanity in order to rationalize white supremacy and it is this moment that products the multitude of radicalized sexist imagery that is constantly reproduced in popular culture. (Hills-Collins, 1990, 2000; Roberts, 1997; Frederickson, 1987) My research looks to the criminalization Black women through two recent cases in Seattle that involve police acting violently toward Black women and through the Black mothering is demonized through reproduction.

Lovely Hula Hands Corporate Tourism and the Prostitution of Hawaiian Culture by Haunani Kay-Trask

Posted by Mona

Hi:

I have a new shero! Anyone interested in culture and self-determination should become a Haunani Kay-Trask fan. I know this is long, but trust me it is so worth learning about the struggle of native peoples and Haunani Kay-Trask explains the Hawaiian culture and history so well I didn't want to short change you by not giving you the full reference. Enjoy! As always, Mona

Lovely Hula HandsCorporate Tourism and the Prostitution of Hawaiian Culture
This paper was first delivered at a Law and Society conference in Berkeley. The response was astounding since most Americans are simply shocked to learn that even one Native thinks of tourism as a colonial imposition on Hawaiians. Of course, it could be that part of the shock was that this message was delivered by a Hawaiian intellectual, something most American racists consider a contradiction in terms.

I am certain that most, if not all, Americans have heard of Hawai’i and have wished, at some time in their lives, to visit my Native land. But I doubt that the history of how Hawai’i came to be territorially incorporated, and economically, politically, and culturally subordinated to the United States is known to most Americans. Nor is it common knowledge that Hawaiians have been struggling for over twenty years to achieve a land base and some form of political sovereignty on the same level as American Indians.

Finally, I would imagine that most Americans could not place Hawai’i or any other Pacific island on a map of the Pacific. But despite all this appalling ignorance, five million Americans will vacation in my homeland this year and the next, and so on into the foreseeable capitalist future. Such are the intended privileges of the so-called American standard of living: ignorance of, and yet power over, one’s relations to Native peoples.

Thanks to post-war American imperialism, the ideology that the United States has no overseas colonies and is, in fact, the champion of self-determination the world over holds no greater sway than in the United States itself. To most Americans, then, Hawai’i is theirs: to use, to take, and, above all, to fantasize about long after the experience.

Just five hours away by plane from California, Hawai’i is a thousand light years away in fantasy. Mostly a state of mind, Hawai’i is the image of escape from the rawness and violence of daily American life.

Hawai’i-the word, the vision, the sound in the mind-is the fragrance and feel of soft kindness. Above all, Hawai’i is “she,” the Western image of the Native “female” in her magical allure. And if luck prevails, some of “her” will rub off on you, the visitor.

This fictional Hawai’i comes out of the depths of Western sexual sickness which demands a dark, sinfree Native for instant gratification between imperialist wars. The attraction of Hawai’i is stimulated by slick Hollywood movies, saccharine Andy Williams music, and the constant psychological deprivations of maniacal American life. Tourists flock to my Native land for escape, but they are escaping into a state of mind while participating in the destruction of a host people in a Native place.

To Hawaiians, daily life is neither soft nor kind. In fact, the political, economic, and cultural reality for most Hawaiians is hard, ugly, and cruel.

In Hawai’i, the destruction of our land and the prostitution of our culture is planned and executed by multinational corporations (both foreign-based and Hawai’i-based), by huge landowners (like the missionary-descended Castle and Cook—of Dole Pineapple fame—and others) and by collaborationist state and country governments. The ideological gloss that claims tourism to be our economic savior and the “natural” result of Hawaiian culture is manufactured by ad agencies (like the state supported Hawai’I Visitors’ Bureau) and tour companies (many of which are owned by the airlines), and spewed out to the public through complicitous cultural engines like film, television and radio, and the daily newspapers. As for the local labor unions, both rank and file and management clamor for more tourists while the construction industry lobbies incessantly for larger resorts.

The major public educational institution, the University of Hawai’i, funnels millions of taxpayer dollars into a School of Travel Industry Management and a Business School replete with a Real Estate Center and a Chair of Free Enterprise (renamed the Walker Chair to hide the crude reality of capitalism). As the propaganda arm of the tourist industry in Hawai’i, both schools churn out studies that purport to show why Hawai’i needs more golf courses, hotels, and tourist infrastructure and how Hawaiian culture is naturally” one of giving and entertaining.

Of course, state-encouraged commodification and prostitution of Native cultures through tourism is not unique to Hawai’i. It is suffered by peoples in places as disparate as Goa, Australia, Tahiti, and the Southwestern United States. Indeed, the problem is so commonplace that international organizations-eg., the Ecumenical Coalition on Third World Tourism out of Bangkok, the Center for Responsible Tourism in California, and the Third World European Network-have banded together to help give voice to Native peoples in daily resistance against corporate tourism. My focus on Hawai’i, although specific to my own culture, would likely transfer well when applied to other Native peoples. 1 Despite our similarities with other major tourist destinations, the statistical picture of the effects of corporate tourism in Hawai’i is shocking:

Fact: Over thirty years ago, at statehood, Hawai’i residents outnumbered tourists by more than 2 to 1.

Today, tourists outnumber residents by 6 to 1; they outnumber Native Hawaiians by 30 to 1. 2
Fact: According to independent economists and criminologists, “tourism has been the single most powerful factor in O’ahu’s crime rate,” including crimes against people and property. 3
Fact: Independent demographers have been pointing out for years that “tourism is the major source of population growth in Hawai’i” and that “rapid growth of the tourist industry ensures the trend toward a rapidly expanded population that receives lower per capita income.” 4
Fact: The Bank of Hawai’i has reported that the average real incomes of Hawai’i residents grow only one percent during the period from the early seventies through the early eighties, when tourism was booming.

The Census Bureau reports that personal income growth in Hawai’i during the same time was the lowest by far of any of the 50 American states. 5

Fact: Ground water supplies on O’ahu will be insufficient to meet the needs of residents and tourists by the year 2000. 6

Fact: According to the Honolulu Advertiser, “Japanese investors have spent more than $7.1 billion on their acquisitions” since 1986 in Hawai’i. This kind of volume translates into huge alienations of land and properties. For example, nearly 2,000 acres of land on the Big Island of Hawai’i was purchased for $18.5 million while over 7,000 acres on Moloka’i went for $33 million. In 1989, over $1 billion was spent by the Japanese on land alone. 7

Fact: More plants and animals from Hawai’i are now extinct or on the endangered species list than in the rest of the United States. 8

Fact: More than 20,500 families are on the Hawaiian trust lands’ list, waiting for housing or pastoral lots. 9

Fact: The median cost of a home on the most populated island of O’ahu is $450,000. 10

Fact: Hawaii has by far the worst ratio of average family income to average housing costs in the country. This explains why families spend nearly 52 percent of their gross income for housing costs. 11

Fact: Nearly one-fifth of Hawaii’s resident population is classified as near-homeless, that is those for whom any mishap results in immediate on-the-street homelessness. 12

These kinds of random statistics render a very bleak picture, not at all what the posters and jingoistic tourist promoters would have you believe about Hawai’i.

My use of the word “tourism” in the Hawai’i context refers to a mass-based, corporately controlled industry that is both vertically and horizontally integrated such that one multi-national corporation owns an airline, the tour buses that transport tourists to the corporation-owned hotel where they eat in a corporation owned restaurant, play golf and “experience” Hawai’i on corporation-owned recreation areas, and eventually consider buying a second home built on corporation land. Profits, in this case, are mostly repatriated back to the home country. In Hawai’i, these “home” countries are Japan, Taiwan, Hong Kong, Canada, Australia, and the United States. In this sense, Hawaii is very much like a Third World colony where the local elite-the Democratic Party in our state-collaborates in the rape of Native land and people. 13

The mass nature of this kind of tourism results in mega-resort complexes on thousands of acres with demands for water and services that far surpass the needs of Hawai’i residents. These complexes may boast several hotels, golf courses, restaurants, and other “necessaries” to complete the total tourist experience.

Infrastructure is usually built by the developer in exchange for county approval of more hotel units. In Hawai’i, counties bid against each other to attract larger and larger complexes. “Rich” counties, then, are those with more resorts since they will pay more of the tax base of the county. The richest of these is the County of Honolulu which encompasses the entire island of O’ahu. This island is the site of four major tourist destinations, a major international airport, and 80 percent of the resident population of Hawai’i. The military also controls nearly 30 percent of the island with bases and airports of their own. As you might imagine, the density of certain parts of Honolulu (e.g., Waikiki) is among the highest in the world. At the present annual visitor count, more than 5 million tourists pour through O’ahu, an island of only 607 square miles. According to a statistician I met at an international tourism conference in Germany in 1986, Hawai’i suffers the greatest number of tourists per square mile of any place on earth.

With this as a background on tourism, I want to move now into the area of cultural prostitution.

“Prostitution” in this context refers to the entire institution which defines a woman (and by extension the “female”) as an object of degraded and victimized sexual value for use and exchange through the medium of money. The “prostitute” is then a woman who sells her sexual capacities and is seen, thereby, to possess and reproduce them at will, that is, by her very “nature.” The prostitute and the institution which creates and maintains her are, of course, of patriarchal origin. The pimp is the conduit of exchange, managing the commodity that is the prostitute while acting as the guard at the entry and exit gates, making sure the prostitute behaves as a prostitute by fulfilling her sexual-economic functions. The victims participate in their victimization with enormous ranges of feeling, including resistance and complicity, but the force and continuity of the institution are shaped by men.

There is much more to prostitution than my sketch reveals but this must suffice for I am interested in using the largest sense of this term as a metaphor in understanding what has happened to Hawaiian culture.

My purpose is not to exact detail or fashion a model but to convey the utter degradation of our culture and our people under corporate tourism by employing “prostitution” as an analytic category.

Finally, I have chosen four areas of Hawaiian culture to examine: our homeland, or one hanau [macron over the first a] that is Hawai’i, our lands and fisheries, the outlying seas and the heavens; our language and dance; our familial relationships; and our women.

Na Mea Hawai’i -Things Hawaiian

The mo’oleolo, or history of Hawaiians, is to be found in our genealogies. From our great cosmogonic genealogy, the Kumulipo, derives the Hawaiian identity. The “essential lesson” of this genealogy is “the interrelatedness of the Hawaiian world, and the inseparability of its constituent parts.” Thus, “the genealogy of the land, the gods, chiefs, and people intertwine one with the other, and with all aspects of the universe.”

14 [footnote 14; their is a macron over the second o in mo'oleolo]

In the mo’olelo of Papa and Wakea [there is macron over the second o in mo'oleolo and on the first a in

Wakea], earth-mother and sky-father, our islands are born: Hawai’i, Maui, O’ahu, Kaua’i, and Ni’ihau.

From their human offspring came the taro planet and from the taro came the Hawaiian people. The lessons of our genealogy are that human beings have a familial relationship to land and to the taro, our elder siblings or kua’ana.

In Hawai’i, as in all of Polynesia, younger siblings must serve and honor elder siblings who, in turn, must feed and care for their younger siblings. Therefore, Hawaiians must cultivate and husband the land which will feed and provide for the Hawaiian people. This relationship of people to land is called malama ‘aina or aloha ‘aina, care and love of the land. [There are macrons over the first a in malama and in 'aina.]

When people and land work together harmoniously, the balance that results is called pono. In Hawaiian society, the ali’i or chiefs were required to maintain order, abundance of food, and good government. The maka’ainana or common people worked the land and fed the chiefs; the ali’i organized production and appeased the gods. [There is a macron over the third a in maka'ainana.]

Today, malama ‘aina is called stewardship by some, although that word does not convey spiritual and genealogical connections. Nevertheless, to love and make the land flourish is a Hawaiian value. ‘ Aina, one of the words for land, means that which feeds. Kama’aina, a term for Native-born people, means child of the land. Thus is the Hawaiian relationship to land both familial and reciprocal. [There is a macron over the third a in Kama'aina.]

Our deities are also of the land: Pele is our volcano, Kane and Lono our fertile valleys and plains,

Kanaloa our ocean and all that lives within it, and so on with the 40,000 and 400,000 gods of Hawai’i. Our whole universe, physical and metaphysical, is divine. [There is a macron over the a in Kane.]

Within this world, the older people or kupuna [macron over the first u] are to cherish those who are younger, the mo’opuna. Unstinting generosity is a value and of high status. Social connections between our people are through aloha, simply translated as love but carrying with it a profoundly Hawaiian sense that is, again, familial and genealogical. Hawaiians feel aloha for Hawai’i whence they come and for their Hawaiian kin upon whom they depend. It is nearly impossible to feel or practice aloha for something that is not familial. This is why we extend familial relations to those few non-Natives whom we feel understand and can reciprocate our aloha. But aloha is freely given and freely returned, it is not and cannot be demanded, or commanded. Above all, aloha is a cultural feeling and practice that works among the people and between the people and their land.

The significance and meaning of aloha underscores the centrality of the Hawaiian language or ‘olelo [macron over the first o] to the culture. ‘Olelo means both language and tongue; mo’olelo, or history, is that which comes from the tongue, i.e., a story. Haole or white people say we have oral history, but what we have are stories passed on through the generations. These are different from the haole sense of history. To Hawaiians in traditional society, language had tremendous power, thus the phrase, i ka ‘olelo ke ola; i ka ‘olelo ka make-in language is life, in language is death. [There are macrons over the first o in 'olelo and over the second o in mo'olelo.]

After nearly 2,000 years of speaking Hawaiian, our people suffered the near extinction of our language through its banning by the American-imposed government in 1896. In 1900, Hawai’i became a territory of the United States. All schools, government operations and official transactions were thereafter conducted in English, despite the fact that most people, including non-Natives, still spoke Hawaiian at the turn of the century.

Since 1970, ‘olelo Hawai’i, or the Hawaiian language, has undergone a tremendous revival, including the rise of language immersion schools. The State of Hawai’i now has two official languages, Hawaiian and English, and the call for Hawaiian language speakers and teachers grows louder by the day. 15 [footnote 15; there is a macron over the first o in 'olelo.]
Along with the flowering of Hawaiian language has come a flowering of Hawaiian dance, especially in its ancient form, called hula kahiko. Dance academies, known as halau, have proliferated throughout Hawai’i as have kumu hula, or dance masters, and formal competitions where all night presentations continue for three or four days to throngs of appreciative listeners. Indeed, among Pacific Islanders, Hawaiian dance is considered one of the finest Polynesian art forms today. [There is a macron over the first a in halau.]

Of course, the cultural revitalization that Hawaiians are now experiencing and transmitting to their children is as much a repudiation of colonization by so-called Western civilization in its American form as it is a reclamation of our own past and our own ways of life. This is why cultural revitalization is often resisted and disparaged by anthropologists and others: they see very clearly that its political effect is decolonization of the mind. Thus our rejection of the nuclear family as the basic unit of society and of individualism as the best form of human expression infuriates social workers, the churches, the legal system, and educators. Hawaiians continue to have allegedly “illegitimate” children, to hanai or adopt both children and adults outside of sanctioned Western legal concepts, to hold and use land and water in a collective form rather than a private property form, and to proscribe the notion and the value that one person should strive to surpass and therefore outshine all others. All these Hawaiian values can be grouped under the idea of ‘ohana, loosely translated as family, but more accurately imaged as a group of both closely and distantly related people who share nearly everything, from land and food to children and status. Sharing is central to this value since it prevents individual decline. Of course, poverty is not thereby avoided, it is only shared with everyone in the unit. The ‘ohana works effectively when the kua’ana relationship elder sibling/younger sibling reciprocity) is practiced.

Finally, within the ‘ohana, our women are considered the lifegivers of the nation, and are accorded the respect and honor this status conveys. Our young women, like our young people in general, are the pua, or flower of our lahui, or our nation [there is a macron over the first a in lahui.] The renowned beauty of our women, especially their sexual beauty, is not considered a commodity to be hoarded by fathers and brothers but an attribute of our people. Culturally, Hawaiians are very open and free about sexual relationships, although Christianity and organized religion have done much to damage these traditional sexual values.
With this understanding of what it means to be Hawaiian, I want to move now to the prostitution of our culture by tourism.

Hawai’i itself is the female object of degraded and victimized sexual value. Our ‘aina, or lands, are not any longer the source of food and shelter, but the source of money. Land is now called real estate; rather than our mother, Papa. The American relationship of people to land is that of exploiter to exploited.

Beautiful areas, once sacred to my people, are now expensive resorts; shorelines where net fishing, seaweed gathering and crabbing occurred are more and more the exclusive domain of recreational activities: sunbathing, windsurfing, jet skiing. Now, even access to beaches near hotels is strictly regulated or denied to the local public altogether.

The phrase, malama ‘aina—to care for the land—is used by government officials to sell new projects and to convince the locals that hotels can be built with a concern for “ecology.” Hotel historians, like hotel doctors, are stationed in-house to soothe the visitors’ stay with pablum [sic] of invented myths and tales of the “primitive.” [There is a macron on the first a in malama.]

High schools and hotels adopt each other and funnel teenagers through major resorts for guided tours from kitchens to gardens to honeymoon suites in preparation for post-secondary jobs in the lowest-paid industry in the State. In the meantime, tourist appreciation kits and movies are distributed through the State Department of Education to all elementary schools. One film, unashamedly titled “What’s in it for Me?,” was devised to convince locals that tourism is, as the newspapers never tire of saying, “the only game in town.”

Of course, all this hype is necessary to hide the truth about tourism, the awful exploitative truth that the industry is the major cause of environmental degradation, low wages, land dispossession, and the highest cost of living in the United States.

While this propaganda is churned out to local residents, the commercialization of Hawaiian culture proceeds with calls for more sensitive marketing of our Native values and practices. After all, a prostitute is only as good as her income-producing talents. These talents, in Hawaiian terms, are the hula; the generosity, or aloha, of our people; the u’i or youthful beauty of our women and men; and the continuing allure of our lands and waters, that is, of our place, Hawai’i.

The selling of these talents must produce income. And the function of tourism and the State of Hawai’I is to convert these attributes into profit.

The first requirement is the transformation of the product, or the cultural attribute, much as a woman must be transformed to look like a prostitute, i.e., someone who is complicitous in her own
commodification. Thus hula dancers wear clown-like make-up, don costumes from a mix of Polynesian cultures, and behave in a manner that is smutty and salacious rather than powerfully erotic. The distance between the smutty and the erotic is precisely the distance between Western culture and Hawaiian culture.

In the hotel version of the hula, the sacredness of the dance has completely evaporated while the athleticism and sexual expression have been packaged like ornaments. The purpose is entertainment for profit rather than a joyful and truly Hawaiian celebration of human and divine nature.

But let us look at an example that is representative of literally hundreds of images that litter the pages of scores of tourist publications. From an Aloha Airlines booklet—shamelessly called the “Spirit of Aloha”— there is a characteristic portrayal of commodified hula dancers, one male and one female. The costuming of the female is more South Pacific—the Cook Islands and Tahiti—while that of the male is more Hawaiian. (He wears a Hawaiian loincloth called a malo.) The ad smugly asserts the hotel dinner service as a lu’au, a Hawaiian feast (which is misspelled) with a continuously open bar, lavish “island” buffet, and “thrilling” Polynesian revue. Needless to say; Hawaiians did not drink alcohol, eat “island” buffets, or participate in “thrilling” revues before the advent of white people in our islands. [There is a macron on the first u of lu'au.]

[Printed with the article is a copy of the advertisement for "Royal Lahaina Luau", and the following caption is added under the advertisement: The above caricature of Polynesian people is a typical example of how corporate tourism in Hawai'i commodifies Native culture for the global tourism market. Because the selling of Hawai'i depends on the prostitution of Hawaiian culture, Hawaiians and other locals must supply the industry with compliant workers. Thus our Hawaiian people---and not only our Hawaiian culture---become commodities.] But back to the advertisement. Lahaina, the location of the resort and once the capital of Hawai’i, is called “royal” because of its past association with our ali’i, or chiefs. Far from being royal today, Lahaina is sadly inundated by California yuppies, drug addicts, and valley girls.

The male figure in the background is muscular, partially clothed, and unsmiling. Apparently, he is supposed to convey an image of Polynesian sexuality that is both enticing and threatening. The white women in the audience can marvel at this physique and still remain safely distant. Like the Black American male, this Polynesian man is a fantasy animal. He casts a slightly malevolent glance at our costumed maiden whose body posture and barely covered breasts contradict the innocent smile on her face.

Finally, the “wondrous allure” referred to in the ad applies to more than just the dancers in their performances; the physical beauty of Hawai’i “alive under the stars” is the larger reference. In this little grotesquerie, the falseness and commercialism fairly scream out from the page. Our language, our dance, our young people, even our costumes of eating are used to ensnare tourists. And the price is only a paltry $39.95, not much for two thousand years of culture. Of course, the hotel will rake in tens of thousands of dollars on just the lu’au alone. And our young couple will make a pittance. [There is a macron over the first u in lu'au.]
The rest of the magazine, like most tourist propaganda, commodifies virtually every part of Hawai’i: mountains, beaches, coastlines, rivers, flowers, our volcano goddess, Pele, reefs and fish, rural Hawaiian communities, even Hawaiian activists.

The point, of course, is that everything in Hawai’i can be yours, that is, you the tourist, the non-Native, the visitor. The place, the people, the culture, even our identity as a “Native” people is for sale. Thus, the magazine, like the airline that prints it, is called Aloha. The use of this word in a capitalist context is so far removed from any Hawaiian cultural sense that it is, literally, meaningless.

Thus, Hawai’i, like a lovely woman, is there for the taking. Those with only a little money get a brief encounter, those with a lot of money, like the Japanese, get more. The State and counties will give tax breaks, build infrastructure, and have the governor personally welcome tourists to ensure they keep coming. Just as the pimp regulates prices and guards the commodity of the prostitute, so the State bargains with developers for access to Hawaiian land and culture. Who builds the biggest resorts to attract the most affluent tourists gets the best deal: more hotel rooms, golf courses, and restaurants approved. Permits are fast-tracked, height and density limits are suspended, new ground water sources are miraculously found.

Hawaiians, meanwhile, have little choice in all this. We can fill up the unemployment lines, enter the military, work in the tourist industry, or leave Hawai’i. Increasingly, Hawaiians are leaving, not by choice but out of economic necessity.

Our people who work in the industry-dancers, waiters, singers, valets, gardeners, housekeepers, bartenders, and even a few managers-make between $10,000 and $25,000 a year, an impossible salary for a family in Hawai’i. Psychologically, our young people have begun to think of tourism as the only employment opportunity, trapped as they are by the lack of alternatives. For our young women, modeling is a “cleaner” job when compared to waiting on tables, or dancing in a weekly revue, but modeling feeds on tourism and the commodification of Hawaiian women. In the end, the entire employment scene is shaped by tourism.
Despite their exploitation, Hawaiians participation in tourism raises the problem of complicity. Because wages are so low and advancement so rare, whatever complicity exists is secondary to the economic hopelessness that drives Hawaiians into industry. Refusing to contribute to the commercialization of one’s culture becomes a peripheral concern when unemployment looms.

Of course, many Hawaiians do not see tourism as part of their colonization. Thus tourism is viewed as providing jobs, not as a form of cultural prostitution. Even those who have some glimmer of critical consciousness don’t generally agree that the tourist industry prostitutes Hawaiian culture. To me, this is a measure of the depth of our mental oppression: we can’t understand our own cultural degradation because we are living it. As colonized people, we are colonized to the extent that we are unaware of our oppression. When awareness begins, then so too does de-colonization. Judging by the growing resistance to new hotels, to geothermal energy and manganese nodule mining which would supplement the tourist industry, and to increases in the sheer number of tourists, I would say that de-colonization has begun, but we have many more stages to negotiate on our path to sovereignty.

My brief excursion into the prostitution of Hawaiian culture has done no more than given an overview.

Now that you have heard a Native view, let me just leave this thought behind. If you are thinking of visiting my homeland, please don’t. We don’t want or need any more tourists, and we certainly don’t like them. If you want to help our cause, pass this message on to your friends.

Footnotes
Author’s note: Lovely Hula Hands is the title of a famous and very saccharine song written by a haole who fell in love with Hawaii in the pre-Statehood era. It embodies the worst romanticized views of hula dancers and Hawaiian culture in general.

Nathaniel Mackey in Columbia City

Nathaniel Mackey is an American poet, novelist, anthologist, literary critic, editor and Professor of Literature at Duke University in North Carolina. SPLAB welcomes him for only his second reading in Seattle and his first since 1994 as part of the SPLAB Visiting Poets Series.

At 7PM on Friday, March 11, 2011, he’ll read prose from his new epistolary novel: From a Broken Bottle Traces of Perfume Still Emanate and answer questions from the audience and UW-Bothell Professor Jeanne Heuving. The event is at the Northwest African-American Museum at 2300 S. Massachusetts St. and is being co-presented by the CD Forum. Admission is $5.

At 7:30PM on Saturday, March 12, 2011, he’ll read poems from Splay Anthem, as well as new work not yet published. Splay Anthem won the National Book Award for poetry in 2006. The reading is at SPLAB, at 3651 S. Edmunds in the Cultural Corner of the former Columbia School. The suggested donation is $5. There is some parking on-site and SPLAB is three blocks from the Columbia City Link Light Rail Station.

Mackey’s poetry combines African mythology, African-American musical traditions, and Postmodernist poetic experiment. His several ongoing serial projects explore the relationship of poetry and historical memory, as well as the ritual power of poetry and song.

Co-sponsors include: 4Culture, Poets & Writers, Seattle Office of Arts and Cultural Affairs, Richard Hugo House, CD Forum, the Shirley Marvin Hotel and WESTAF.

More About SPLAB:

A non-profit, 501(c)(3) corporation since 1993, SPLAB is an intergenerational writing Performance, Resource and Outreach center dedicated to Poetry, Story-telling, Conversation, Debate, Consciousness and Building community through shared experience of the spoken and written word.

More About Mackey:

...Mackey's series of improvisatory jazz-inspired fictions locates a ground between invention and listening that he defines as the source of culture itself. All culture, for Mackey, is a form of listening to what "we" are collectively improvising.
- Barrett Watten

A Chancellor of The Academy of American Poets, he has been editor and publisher of Hambone since 1982. Born in 1947 in Miami, Mackey obtained his B.A. from Princeton and his PhD from Stanford. His poetry books include Four for Trane (1978); Septet for the End of Time (1983); Eroding Witness (1985), which was selected for the National Poetry Series; Outlandish (1992); School of Udhra (1993); Song of the Andoumboulou: 18-20 (1994); Whatsaid Serif (1998) and Splay Anthem (2006).

Awards: 2006 National Book Award in poetry, for Splay Anthem, 2007 Foundation for Contemporary Arts Grants to Artists Award, 2010 Guggenheim Fellowship

Mackey has published four volumes of an ongoing prose project entitled, From A Broken Bottle Traces of Perfume Still Emanate (2010); Bass Cathedral (2008), Atet A. D. (2001), Djbot Baghostus's Run (1993) and Bedouin Hornbook (1986). He is author of Discrepant Engagement: Dissonance, Cross-Culturality, and Experimental Writing (1993), an influential book of literary theory, and more recently of Paracritical Hinge: Essays, Talks, Notes, Interviews (2004). He has edited the avant-garde literary journal Hambone for more than 15 years, and co-edited Moment's Notice: Jazz in Poetry and Prose with Art Lange (1993).

Remembering "Hot Grits:" An Ode to Black Female Punk Rock in Seattle

By Priya Frank


Working in the arts in Seattle for several years, I have had the opportunity to see many types of performances in a variety of spaces. Many entertain and inspire; some have let me know what I don’t like, so that I know in the future what not to go see. And there are a few that have stayed with me long after the stage has gone dark. Those performances I cherish and keep in my mental memory box, feeling that what I saw couldn’t be reproduced and how fortunate I was to have been able to witness this unique and groundbreaking moment in time. At Re-Bar in October of 2008, Dirty Girl Productions’ “Hot Grits” exploded onto the Seattle scene, with a unique concept that producer and conceiver of the play, Denee McCloud, refers to as a “3 a.m. idea.” This was one of those moments.


“Dirty Girl” Productions was a production company dedicated to supporting modern and pioneering work produced by African American women. Written by Jude Hill and directed by Tyrone Brown of the Brownbox Theatre, the story of “Hot Grits” followed the lives of four Black women as they entered into the punk rock world where they were not necessarily welcome, and although the focus of the play centered on a band, it was set within a theatrical production. They intentionally cast actors who did not know how to play the instruments they were cast for, so not only did the dialogue have to be learned, but also the instruments, they played, the songs they sang, and the challenge of being able to come together as both a musician and an actor hats within this multi-layered performance. Incredibly all of the songs and music were written by the cast and produced by Dirty Girl productions.

During the play, the audience follows the Seattle band as they struggle to achieve notoriety while facing their own battles with drugs, alcohol, sex, racism, sexism, love, and their search to find their own identities within these issues. Through this journey, Lola, Jordan, Amber and Kenya find one another, and to an extent, themselves, through their common love of punk rock music. McCloud, who was the founder and producer of the production company, said that “Hot Grits is the result of an extraordinary team of artists and creators that have come together to wake Seattle up from a self-induced coma.”


Because of its exploration of a genre seemingly new to Seattle, reviewers of the play seemed confused and unsure about this introduction to a new concept. The Seattle Times Misha Berson called it an “…an attention-grabbing concept…” while Seattle Weekly’s Virginia Zech stated, “Ordinarily I couldn’t care less about swearing in a play, but when a show has nothing to tell me I would rather be told gently… I was deeply disappointed to see semi-glorified drug abuse. On the upside, the costuming and set design are excellent. Many respondents to these articles felt completely opposite, but were not surprised by the lack of support from mainstream news sources. In response, many that had seen the play challenged these negative reviews stating:

• I'm really not surprised that once again, the Seattle Weekly is completely out of touch. I…LOVED it. I think it would have been odd if there were NO obscenities in a punk performance/play…

• "I am so tired of folks assuming that if a play/story/film is about black women that it has to be political or serious. If this was a play about white women in a punk band it would have been glorified as empowering."

• Hot Grits is a unique, original and fun show! I applaud Dirty Girl Productions for raising the bar on what music and art can be in this city, and for exploding the assumptions on what Black females can be & do.

It seems like when a concept is introduced that has the ability to fall into more than one category and addresses issues in a variety of ways, the reception it receives is less than supportive, even in a place that seems to boast a “progressive” attitude, such as Seattle. It seems difficult to place an identity on something when it cross more than one “boundary” such as race, class, sexual preference, etc. Confronting these complex forms of identity calls into question not only the redefinition of acceptable culture and acceptable art forms, but also as Jocelyn Guilbault refers to in her piece, Interpreting world music: a challenge in theory and practice, calls for “a redefinition of bonds, boundaries, and borders…through music people position themselves differently according to specific spaces, times and interests and, by doing so, mobilise different politics of identity.” (P 34, 40)

More than just entertaining, seeing these kinds of performances allows me to examine the critical work that art does to highlight theoretical concepts within the context of an artist’s craft. When the artist performs, they ask questions and create a kind of dialogue within the representation of their bodies and voice. This in turn provides an opportunity for certain messages to be spread in a powerful way. Unfortunately, it isn’t surprising that folks in mainstream media felt that the story didn’t have anything to say. Unlike Misha Berson, I believe that the story had many things to tell us, relating to relationships, music, struggle, and being finding comfort in your own skin. It was exciting to see women of color living their lives and dealing with issues many other women of color also do, and whether or not we would have chosen the same actions is irrelevant.

Check out a performance by Hot Grits at a Magic Wheels motorcycle club gathering in Georgetown in 2008: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lvIXM4PajUE

References:
http://blogs.seattleweekly.com/threadcount/2008/10/stage_review_dirty_girl_produc.php
http://seattletimes.nwsource.com/html/thearts/2008275337_fringe170.html
http://mobile.theskanner.com/article/2008/10/16/HOT-GRITS-A-Punk-Rock-Play-On-Music
Guilbault, Jocelyne. Interpreting world music: a challenge in theory and practice. Popular Music (1997) Volume 16/1. Copywright 1997 Cambridge University Press

Self-Silencing- "Diversity" on Campus

Posted by Mandy

One of the requirements to beginning or continuing a college education at any number of university's in the U.S. is attendance at a pre-Fall Quarter orientation. Having attended four different colleges at this point, I have gone through three orientations, at Seattle University, Sophia University (上智大学) in Tokyo, and the University of Washington Bothell. No such orientation was held at Edmonds Community College, where I received my Associate's degree through the college-in-high school Running Start program.

I remember speaking with fellow undergraduate students during the Seattle U orientation. It made sense that I was there, I was fair-skinned and all, and I only have a non-Pacific Northwest accent when I’m nervous, a habit picked up from my mom whose Chilean accent grows stronger during times of stress. Yet, when we discussed campus diversity as a group, people of various racial groups were asked to stand up when their race was called: "Stand up if you are Black… White… Asian… Hispanic… Native American!" I was outted. I remember talking to other kids about my scholarship, and how people always assumed that it was race-based simply because I have a Latina mother. Never mind that I graduated high school with a 3.94 acc. GPA. I’d been identifying as someone simply passing for White.

Throughout my experience in undergrad, I seemed to come up time and again as a perceived square or series of squares in the game of Diversity Bingo. It's weird how race (and other "minority" factors) so often comes up in association with gameplay; so often the term "race card" comes up as though it's some sort of wild card I keep in my back pocket if I'm incapable of succeeding based on intellect or creativity alone. When applying to graduate programs, I was told to "play up" my chronic pain disability, and as an international student at Sophia, I was paraded across campus with other folks studying abroad in Tokyo, portrayed as an asset to the campus culture that boasted many opportunities to speak with native English speakers.

This weekend, I had the opportunity to participate in a retreat for the upcoming Diversity Minor at UW Bothell. While the people with whom I worked looked far beyond the problematic view of "diversity" in the university, in which one feels only welcome as a statistic versus a person, I still simultaneously felt the need to be and the upsetting nature of being impelled toward silence. By this, I do not mean that I failed to contribute at all to the discussions or the overall structure of the retreat, but that, when faced with the conditions of my disability, I failed to speak.

The group went nearly three hours without break, which, generally speaking, shouldn't be a problem. Unfortunately, my pain becomes much worse when sitting for long periods of time. At work, I tend to stand up at least once an hour to stretch, yet, for some reason, I felt I could not do such among this group. Similarly, I still fail to stand up as needed during classes, despite having disability accommodations that allow me to do so.

While, there are surely a number of reasons for this, I'm inclined to think that the university still remains, at least for me as a queer, disabled, woman of color, an unsafe or at least an uncomfortable space, generally speaking. I am reminded again and again of Audre Lorde's invitation to speak, along with another Black woman, at the Second Sex Conference only days before the event, and only on "The Personal and Political" panel. Although her responding talk, "The Master's Tools Will Never Dismantle the Master's House" was given over thirty years ago, sometimes it feels like I am sitting in that room with her today. Like I was just invited to this academic game last minute to show some sort of PR-related commitment to diversity.

Last year, at the UW Seattle's Women of Color Conference, a young Asian American woman spoke up in the Sister Space, and asked "Why do we need a conference for women of color specifically? Why can't we engage in these discussions within other spaces?" The truth is, the counter-feminist/pro-racist rhetoric runs deep and is widespread. These questions cannot infiltrate our radical feminist conscious, and so sneak into the subconscious and subvert the ego from within.

There is absolutely no reason why I shouldn't allow myself to be looked at, except that I remember myself made object in the past, held up like a prize marlin. I remember the spectacle of my breasts and ass, curvy and large in their latin-ness, while in Tokyo. I remember what it felt like to stand up with the two other Latin@ kids when we were called during Seattle U's orientation. And a part of me thinks I remember what it felt like to be invited to that conference last minute because no one remembered before hand that it wasn't supposed to look as racist as it actually was.

To conclude, I leave you with the full text of Audre Lorde's beautiful talk, because it feels so much more poignant to me now than it did two years ago.

The Master's Tools Will Never Dismantle the Master's House
by Audre Lorde

From Sister Outsider: Essays and Speeches

I agreed to take part in a New York University Institute for the Humanities conference a year ago, with the understanding that I would be commenting upon papers dealing with the role of difference within the lives of American women: difference of race, sexuality, class, and age. The absence of these considerations weakens any feminist discussion of the personal and the political.

It is a particular academic arrogance to assume any discussion of feminist theory without examining our many differences, and without a significant input from poor women, Black and Third World women, and lesbians. And yet, I stand here as a Black lesbian feminist, having been invited to comment within the only panel at this conference where the input of Black feminists and lesbians is represented. What this says about the vision of this conference is sad, in a country where racism, sexism, and homophobia are inseparable. To read this program is to assume that lesbian and Black women have nothing to say about existentialism, the erotic, women's culture and silence, developing feminist theory, or heterosexuality and power. And what does it mean in personal and political terms when even the two Black women who did present here were literally found at the last hour? What does it mean when the tools of a racist patriarchy are used to examine the fruits of that same patriarchy? It means that only the most narrow perimeters of change are possible and allowable.

The absence of any consideration of lesbian consciousness or the consciousness of Third World women leaves a serious gap within this conference and within the papers presented here. For example, in a paper on material relationships between women, I was conscious of an either/or model of nurturing which totally dismissed my knowledge as a Black lesbian. In this paper there was no examination of mutuality between women, no systems of shared support, no interdependence as exists between lesbians and women-identified women. Yet it is only in the patriarchal model of nurturance that women "who attempt to emancipate themselves pay perhaps too high a price for the results," as this paper states.

For women, the need and desire to nurture each other is not pathological but redemptive, and it is within that knowledge that our real power is rediscovered. It is this real connection which is so feared by a patriarchal world. Only within a patriarchal structure is maternity the only social power open to women.

Interdependency between women is the way to a freedom which allows the I to be, not in order to be used, but in order to be creative. This is a difference between the passive be and the active being.

Advocating the mere tolerance of difference between women is the grossest reformism. It is a total denial of the creative function of difference in our lives. Difference must be not merely tolerated, but seen as a fund of necessary polarities between which our creativity can spark like a dialectic. Only then does the necessity for interdependency become unthreatening. Only within that interdependency of different strengths, acknowledged and equal, can the power to seek new ways of being in the world generate, as well as the courage and sustenance to act where there are no charters.

Within the interdependence of mutual (nondominant) differences lies that security which enables us to descend into the chaos of knowledge and return with true visions of our future, along with the concomitant power to effect those changes which can bring that future into being. Difference is that raw and powerful connection from which our personal power is forged.

As women, we have been taught either to ignore our differences, or to view them as causes for separation and suspicion rather than as forces for change. Without community there is no liberation, only the most vulnerable and temporary armistice between an individual and her oppression. But community must not mean a shedding of our differences, nor the pathetic pretense that these differences do not exist.

Those of us who stand outside the circle of this society's definition of acceptable women; those of us who have been forged in the crucibles of difference -- those of us who are poor, who are lesbians, who are Black, who are older -- know that survival is not an academic skill. It is learning how to stand alone, unpopular and sometimes reviled, and how to make common cause with those others identified as outside the structures in order to define and seek a world in which we can all flourish. It is learning how to take our differences and make them strengths. For the master's tools will never dismantle the master's house. They may allow us temporarily to beat him at his own game, but they will never enable us to bring about genuine change. And this fact is only threatening to those women who still define the master's house as their only source of support.

Poor women and women of Color know there is a difference between the daily manifestations of marital slavery and prostitution because it is our daughters who line 42nd Street. If white American feminist theory need not deal with the differences between us, and the resulting difference in our oppressions, then how do you deal with the fact that the women who clean your houses and tend your children while you attend conferences on feminist theory are, for the most part, poor women and women of Color? What is the theory behind racist feminism?

In a world of possibility for us all, our personal visions help lay the groundwork for political action. The failure of academic feminists to recognize difference as a crucial strength is a failure to reach beyond the first patriarchal lesson. In our world, divide and conquer must become define and empower.

Why weren't other women of Color found to participate in this conference? Why were two phone calls to me considered a consultation? Am I the only possible source of names of Black feminists? And although the Black panelist's paper ends on an important and powerful connection of love between women, what about interracial cooperation between feminists who don't love each other?

In academic feminist circles, the answer to these questions is often, "We did not know who to ask." But that is the same evasion of responsibility, the same cop-out, that keeps Black women's art out of women's exhibitions, Black women's work out of most feminist publications except for the occasional "Special Third World Women's Issue," and Black women's texts off your reading lists. But as Adrienne Rich pointed out in a recent talk, white feminists have educated themselves about such an enormous amount over the past ten years, how come you haven't also educated yourselves about Black women and the differences between us -- white and Black -- when it is key to our survival as a movement?

Women of today are still being called upon to stretch across the gap of male ignorance and to educate men as to our existence and our needs. This is an old and primary tool of all oppressors to keep the oppressed occupied with the master's concerns. Now we hear that it is the task of women of Color to educate white women -- in the face of tremendous resistance -- as to our existence, our differences, our relative roles in our joint survival. This is a diversion of energies and a tragic repetition of racist patriarchal thought.

Simone de Beauvoir once said: "It is in the knowledge of the genuine conditions of our lives that we must draw our strength to live and our reasons for acting."

Racism and homophobia are real conditions of all our lives in this place and time. I urge each one of us here to reach down into that deep place of knowledge inside herself and touch that terror and loathing of any difference that lives there. See whose face it wears. Then the personal as the political can begin to illuminate all our choices.

Women Who Rock Conference- February 17-18, 2011

Come support Priya and Mandy as we lead a workshop on women of color in Seattle's music scene!

Registration is free

To ensure a seat register at: https://catalyst.uw.edu/webq/survey/quetzal/111906

Women Who Rock Research Project

1. Women Who Rock Research Project (WWRRP) supports, develops, and circulates scholarship and cultural production by faculty, graduate students, undergraduates and cultural producers across disciplines, both within and outside the University, who examine the politics of gender, race, and sexuality generated by popular music. Its goal is to generate dialogue between academic researchers and music practitioners, and provide a focal point from which to build and strengthen relationships between local musicians and their communities, and educational institutions.

2. Digital Oral History Project, cross-sectoral development:

Collaborating with the UW Women Who Rock Collective of graduate students and Seattle musicians, the Women Who Rock Research Project will sponsor the collection and processing of oral histories documenting the important role of women in the history of music locally and nationally. The archive created through this project will be made available online and seeks to promote cross-sectoral partnership by sharing archival material archive with museums and through the co-development of on-line exhibits and curriculum. A pilot for the oral history project is currently in development with UW Libraries Digital Initiatives with School of Music grad. student Kim Carter Munoz conducting and editing interviews.

3. Support of Undergraduate and Graduate Courses: Winter Women Studies Graduate course, "Making a Scene: Girls and Boys Play Indie-Rock" Gender, Music, Nation AES 498 / WOMEN 542.

4 .Women Who Rock Research Project also supports academic courses by providing opportunities for students to learn about the process of oral histories and to conduct them. Archived material also provides content for courses and well as guest lectures by cultural producers in local and national. The project also supports student learning by providing opportunities for the generation of original student research and cultural production.

5. The “Women Who Rock: Making Scenes, Building Communities” conference aims to be an annual event, will also introduce the initial phase of the Women Who Rock Oral History project. At the conference, we will generate contacts for future oral histories.

6. Both graduate courses (Women 542) and undergraduate courses (AES 498) support the digital oral history project and the Women Who Rock conference. In other words, Women 542, the Women Who Rock Digital oral history project and the one-day Women Who Rock conference are integrated projects which are contained under the umbrella of the Women Who Rock Project.