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Harvesting radishes on the farm
I went to that small farm down a dirt road for months, convinced I knew very little and had much to learn. I thought I’d be able to call myself a farmer after I spent enough time learning from one. What I found, instead, was that farmer would introduce me to my last and final teacher: the plants themselves.
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Following California Governor Gavin Newsome and Boris Johnson’s announcements of the ‘not lockdowns’, we thought it important that we wade through the myriad of issues that come with this pandemic. We in no way underestimate the seriousness of coronavirus and we absolutely DO NOT want anyone to go against the advisories in place. We want everyone to stay safe, and if they can, stay indoors. Here we are presenting a couple of things to be thinking through while you are doing what you can to keep from getting yourself and others infected.
Kindness/Cruelty
The UK government has been going on about how a key element of how we survive coronavirus is about compassion. Coronavirus really IS a test of how we treat each other. There are a number of digital communities arising to offer support to those who aren’t lucky enough to have friends or loved ones or have them nearby, and aside from getting involved in one of these groups, you can also exercise your empathetic muscle in an individual way. Check in with ALL your networks. Keep a regular and daily eye on friends, family and neighbours. If you know someone who is struggling, or could be struggling, don’t wait for them to ask for help. Not everyone has the capacity to reach out. Also, not everyone is a NEET or hikikomori.
What this pandemic is publicly exposing is who we are on the inside. The UK government is concerned that people are still going out despite the measures that have been implemented, and to be honest I am not surprised. Part of the issue is that we have been socialised to believe it is ok to put ourselves first at the expense of others, and that we have the right to do as we please without considering our impact. Now it is not as simple and straightforward as what I have just said of course, but the core logic is there. We CAN do as we please yes, but it shouldn’t be causing others harm in the process.
The Privilege of Staying Indoors
If you are a gig worker (for example Deliveroo or Postmates), domestic worker, in the service industry (in the US), homeless, a refugee, and/or suffer from mental health issues staying at home is not as simple or even possible. The reality is if you have a job for example in an office, have support from friends and family, and are free from harm of any kind, you can choose to stay indoors. Many countries have taken or are trying to take steps to relieve those who need to work to stay housed or fed. This may not reach everyone. Reach out to your neighbours, build alternative supply chains with friends, link up with relief systems in your city or town if you can.
At the same time, staying indoors can also be a different kind of dangerous. There have already been reports that domestic violence has increased with people quarantining themselves and similar issues have to be taken into account with any measures implemented and the kinds of support that need to remain available. In the case of the homeless, there was concern that the homeless would lose access to hostels as a result of social distancing measures, and while hotels are opening their doors to the homeless, there are concerns there are still not enough beds.
Branches of the Los Angeles Tenants Union have released demands that include the rights of prisoners to healthcare and safe shelter. Their demands remind us to think of the kinds of enforcement that are and could be further abused during this crisis. Undocumented folk should be able to have access to and seek healthcare without fear of arrest. People who are housed should be safe from eviction.
The Gendered Burden
The Guardian and the Atlantic both point out how it is assumed women will make up the majority of the slack because we’re all having to stay at home. This isn’t new sadly; countries expect free domestic labour from their feminine citizens. The least we can do as individuals is not expect the same from our loved ones. As it should be under normal circumstances, do not assume that staying at home suddenly means having free time, and do not assume that someone else, be that your partner or anyone else, will automatically take care of the things that need doing around the house. Your living space should be communally maintained.
Neonationalism
Shutting down travel and associating viral transmission with foreigners feeds nicely into the racists’ hands. The new powers of the police in the UK and increased military presence in other countries are how oppressive regimes start. I am not saying that the measures countries like the UK are taking shouldn’t be happening, but it can be a slippery slope. Your new neighbour is not your enemy. This is not China’s fault. This virus compromises weak immune systems no matter where you’re from.
Who Gets Access to What
In the UK, the government has covered 80% of the salaries of business they’ve asked to close and have nationalised the railways in an effort to keep the economy going. Sky News keeps commenting how unexpected it has been to see such a right leaning Tory government enacting leftist policies that were rejected just months before. This conservatives-talking-leftist is also eerily echoed in the States. Tax payment deadlines have been extended, and the self-employed currently have access to universal credit, employment and support allowance.
There is a lot being poured in to the British and US economies and supporting businesses, but who qualifies and how? And what do you have to do to access it? As previously mentioned, gig workers are still having to continue their jobs as the coverage they have access to isn’t sufficient, but even the provisions that have been allotted to owners of small businesses and companies come with specific criteria that may mean that many do not qualify. Larger businesses are already faring better with these loans supposedly for ‘small’ businesses. What has also come to light is the sheer number of people applying to access support is contributing to how long it has taken people to receive financial support. We also heard that banks are starting to reject the applications of some businesses but UK Chancellor Sunak announced changes will be made to the emergency aid scheme for small businesses. Only time will tell.
We’re Doing Communism
Well, technically it’s socialism since these are governments that are dictating precautions to people. But here’s the thing, we should be doing it. Mandates to limit exposure, collective ownership of healthcare, mass producing ventilators, smaller supply chains so everyone can get what they need are all things we need to do to protect each other. It is strange to think about how we’re conditioned to believe that an overly stocked shelf is a sign that everything is ok. Our needs as people, as cities, as states are actually much smaller. We don’t need massive box stores full of things that quickly turn into waste. Or shelves emptied because people can turn a huge profit from price gouging.
But, we also have to be careful about who we make compromises to. We have historically given away our rights to political leaders in times of crisis in exchange for ‘security’. It has not always been to the benefit of all. It can be socialism…but also fascism. A leader can nationalize production, call a halt on mortgage payments and issue a ‘stimulus’ but not give these to every person equally. A conservative government can suddenly start approving legislation that it once condemned. But a leader can present an open palm of relief to some and a closed fist to others. Be mindful of what your leaders not only offer you, but what they offer to those more vulnerable than you.
Taking Advantage of Paranoia
Speaking of mindfulness, think about how people share information with you: are they keeping you informed or driving you to panic? Are they giving you actions to look after yourself and those who are vulnerable or leaning in to your worst fears? This is a time when the predatory nature of capitalism will really hit you in the face. How reliable, for example, is Google’s recent offer to share people’s information to track whether they are adhering to social distancing or not? Elderly folks are warned to be wary of scammers who prey on their emotions, making them panic into giving away their money. We would all be wise to be wary of any business, news outlet, politician or otherwise who makes us feel that way.
Many people are made to feel like it’s their survival over yours. That doesn’t have to be true. China sent excess respirators to Italy. Cuba has sent doctors to five countries. A healer swears to heal all, no matter where they’re from.
The only way through this is together.
This interview with Myriam was originally published on Coptic Queer Stories on January 27, 2020. It is shared here with their permission and edited to fit The Turn Left’s editorial guidelines. Use your imagination for what🍴, ⚱️and 👕 are stand ins for ;).
If you had one word to explain your relationship with Coptic identity, what would it be?
Up/rooted. An upside-down, rootless tree is the image in my head. I feel like I’m not rooted in it because of mixedness and because I’m not in Egypt. I find myself often realizing that you can’t really be removed from what you are though, right? That’s just a stupid frontal lobe illusion, like, “Oh haha, I’m not really what I am.” No that’s immutable, what you do with it I think is the important thing.
Have you always felt like this?
I fought so hard to belong. I was obsessed with it. I thought that identity meant that I had to reject certain parts of myself, and only express one part in order to be truly accepted by anyone. I didn’t understand people’s insecurity with me for a long time; and I realized that a lot of that was about me being more than one thing; they didn’t really trust me. My dad refused to teach us Arabic--well I should say that the reason he said he wouldn’t teach us Arabic was because, “Arabic is not our language.” Who knows if that was really the reason he didn’t teach us, but I always felt like I was looking at a group of people in a room with glass walls from the outside and I didn’t have the key to get in. All I’ve ever wanted was to join everyone else, to be a part of the group. And then I realized that fighting so hard to belong was like bending myself in uncomfortable and painful ways just to fit in, so then I ended up rejecting all of it.
Could you clarify what you think your dad meant when he said, “Arabic is not our language”?
He was referring to Arabic as it not being the original language in Egypt. We can call him an Egyptian nationalist, or more accurately probably, he was a Coptic nationalist. There are people, like my dad, whom I’ve heard say similar things, particularly many Coptic people in Egypt feel this way. There’s a lot of, “This is our land, we were here first” sort of thing, but with the history of Egypt, and the history of colonialism in North Africa, it’s tricky. Yes the Arabs were an empire, but the Coptic language exists because of the Macedonian and Greek empires, so it’s like where are we drawing these lines? But anyway, my dad would say, “If you’re going to learn a language, learn Coptic.” There was absolutely anti-Arab sentiment there.
Tell me about being mixed a little bit more. Tell me about your Italian half.
I’ve been thinking about that part a lot lately. I’ve realized that, in a way, my mother is mixed too. After dad died, my mom and I were traveling in Italy and I heard a lot of stories about her parents and how she was raised in the village. My grandfather was from Northern Italy, and Nonna was from Calabria. They called her il calabrese, which is basically calling her “the darky.” Apparently, everyone was afraid of my Nonna, I mean, rightfully so, she was terrifying. That woman saw some 👕. In Southern Italy, where she was from, it’s totally different; there's a much deeper, richer history of trade, integration, immigration, migration. I’ve convinced myself, without proof mind you, that Nonna was descended from pirates. But anyway, the only connection I had with Italy growing up was Nonna living with us until I was in junior high: Nonna making food, Nonna cursing in Italian, Nonna speaking broken English. Besides her, I didn’t live near either of my parent’s families, but we went to a Coptic church, so I ended up spending more time with Egyptians than with Italians. Italian culture felt very distant and much less tangible for me growing up. As I got older, I got this notion that I’m not only mixed, but I’m a mix of white and brown. Because Middle Easterners aren’t seen, by census standards anyway, as brown (societally they sure are), brown-ness seemed moveable in a way. All I can say about that is...Italians are wild. When it comes down to it, I typically just say that I’m Mediterranean; there are a lot of cultural similarities among all Mediterraneans. I don’t know if it has everything to do with the Sea perse, but every country that shares that coast has something in common.
I know you spent many years living abroad, could you tell me about your decision to live in the region?
I went to figure it out. In college, all of a sudden, I had to be something. At the time, the answers that I had didn’t feel sufficient, and it triggered an identity crisis. I was determined to figure that question out; what was I? I told myself that anthropology would give me the answer, anthropology was going to solve the problem of my mixedness. I just wrote a piece about this, how I felt like I could bifurcate myself and turn the white piece toward the brown piece and ask myself, “Why?” I felt like I had pieces within me that felt so outside of my own experiences, that I could just step outside of it all, to study myself and my people as if I didn’t belong to them. This came to a head when I moved to Egypt. There were times when cousins or friends would say that they were surprised that I wasn’t from there, that I blended in so well. But this is a thing that people say when you’re doing something that they approve of. And yes, I was doing everything possible to be approved of in Egypt because I needed to know I was Egyptian. I needed it to be confirmed by other people because I didn’t believe it, I didn’t think I was allowed to be it, I had to prove it. But at the same time, walking down the street was a strange game. One day, I’d be seen as a local like everyone else. On the next, I’d be an obvious foreigner, a target for harassment. Although every non-male body is subject to harassment on the street, I would find myself obsessing about why it happened to me. Was it because I wasn’t wearing a headdress? Was it the way I walked? The way I looked? Is my skin lighter after spending a lot of time indoors? I mean, I endlessly obsessed over figuring out the thing that signaled to someone else that I wasn’t a local. I think the part that frustrated me so much about that was the fact that it wasn’t up to me how I would be seen. That took some time for me to accept, but Egypt was where I had the biggest leaps forward. Going to the American University and working in different museums like The Egyptian Museum and the Coptic Museum, I interacted with folks on my own, without the influence of family. I didn’t live with family, and this helped me make my own relationship with Cairo; this was immensely important to me. Do you know that saying, “The stranger is blind?” The proverb, Alghareeb a3ma Walaw kan baseer. That was my guiding principle; it means that I am not going to be able to know what I can’t see. It amazed me how feminist nuns are, and they just are even if they’d never accept the label. I accepted, while riding in a car to Alexandria with my mentor that I was a feminist too. Egypt was where I realized I was queer.
Camping in Red Rock Canyon. Fire is cool.
Were these interactions with nuns something that was part of your studies, or were they self-directed explorations?
My aunt, my dad’s sister, is a nun. There were family visits on the first Friday of every month to her monastery. I owe my final queer awakening to an attraction to a female professor at AUC, rather than the nuns. For me, the realization was quiet and subtle. It’s always the professor isn’t it?
Tell me more about the language you use to talk about your gender and sexuality, and how living in Egypt at that time influenced these terms and identities.
I identify as queer: it captures both being non-binary and my sexuality. I am fine with any respectful pronoun, since I don’t feel any of them quite capture what I am. I’m attracted to people, not their packaging. I didn’t hear the word queer until after I’d had a soft coming out, and I figured, “Oh ya, that’s a lot simpler than my three-paragraph explanation, I’ll use that.” Since I was coming into my own without a queer community, I was figuring these things out on my own. I never felt comfortable joining a community and asking for acceptance. I just didn’t trust it because of my experience with mixedness and trying to be a part of the Coptic community. I felt like if I asked for permission, then I was going to burn bridges somehow. In groups of queer people, it seemed to me that I had a way of asking questions that would make people uncomfortable. People in those spaces seemed to be so protective and defensive, understandably. I don’t disparage anyone that, especially queer people, I just never felt like there was a space for me. So I collected bits and pieces of people that I met along the way, I’d read things and absorb them on my own. While it doesn’t really make me sad that this is the way it happened, it makes me feel it's important that those spaces are open to everyone, that I make a space for other queer people.
Do you still feel that way about queer spaces and groups?
It’s less about specific aspects of people, I’m just suspicious of people. Particularly in groups; with awareness, or a lack of awareness, people can be dangerous. It doesn’t scare me necessarily because I can tell the difference now between someone who is uncomfortable with themselves and me being uncomfortable with them being uncomfortable with themselves. That makes a huge difference to me. When I was in the Peace Corps in Azerbaijan (my time in lite imperialism haha) there were a few volunteers that were queer, some were out, some were not. By that time in my life I had an understanding of myself, though queer was not the word I was using yet; I had an understanding of myself as being part of that community. I remember these volunteers would say that they were gay first, then follow it up with their name and where they were from. Like “Hi! I’m gay,” all up in there with the rest and I remember thinking, “This is cool, but, I don’t know how to do that.” Plus, we were in a conservative, newly Muslim-led country, because Azerbaijan was under the Soviet Union, practicing religion there was illegal until the 90s. It wasn’t about religion, but as a womxn or someone on the female spectrum from a foreign country, people instilled a lot of caution in us. For example, if you were seen drinking or laughing in the street, we were told to expect that people wouldn’t trust us; that we were behaving in an “unbecoming” manner. Whether or not this was the culture of that country or if it was the Peace Corps’ interpretation didn’t really matter. The gender dynamics were constantly at play, and queer people were definitely encouraged to downplay themselves; their concerns were ignored and sometimes not considered.
It sounds like a tricky environment to navigate on your own. Can you tell me more?
I think as a first generation child, and a child of immigrant parents, the concepts of hiding and shame were pretty familiar. I was used to not dealing with so many things, and just tossing them to the backburner. I was used to operating under a veil of secrecy. By the time I was in Azerbaijan, I was like, “Ya, no big deal. I know how to do this; I’m gonna live my life in secret, it’s fine.” It was easy for me, but it’s only been as I got older that I asked myself why I was living my life in so much shame. I knew that being queer wasn’t something that I was ashamed of. And even though I tell myself I don’t think these things are shameful, when I go back to Egypt, I’m confronted with the fact that I am still indeed living with a lot of shame. I’ve grown a lot since the Peace Corps and living in Egypt in my 20s, but going back in more recent years, even after having done grad school and working in a variety of different jobs, I noticed that all of that growth seemed to go away. In Egypt, I immediately reverted into trying to fit into a heteronormative role.
Do you have a sense as to why that might be the case?
Even as a child, my internal voice has always said, “Don’t attract attention to yourself, you attract enough attention as it is.” It has always been in the back of my mind, and I know I’ve internalized, “Don’t stand out, keep your head down, don’t give anything away, do what is expected of you, you can find time to do what you really want when you’re in private.” Doing what is expected of you all the time makes it very difficult to understand what you actually want to do for yourself. Then it takes years to peel that behavior away. Going back to Egypt for a second time, I felt like I didn’t strive to belong anymore, so it was more obvious to me how much bending I was doing. Also, I wasn’t on my own like I was in my 20s. I was spending significantly more time with family, so smaller patterns became more obvious, and I didn’t really have as much of an escape.
Can you give me a quick timeline of the places you’ve lived?
I lived in Egypt from 2006-2007, then I was in Azerbaijan for the Peace Corps 2009- 2011, NYC in 2012, then I made my way to Thailand right before moving back to Egypt, where I was for the 2016 election up until recently. I’m based in Los Angeles now.
Could you tell me a little more about how it was living in Egypt the second time, especially around the 2016 election?
Getting most people to talk about politics before January 2011 was like pulling teeth. Some people were always involved, and talking about the need for reform; there was definitely an underground movement in Egypt for a long time, but generally people were afraid to talk, let alone protest. Now though, everyone has an opinion. These opinions are loud and aggressive, and I personally believe that most, if not all, people are suffering from some sort of PTSD because everyone has witnessed violence or lost someone to violence. Everyone has that story; families are divided by opposing political opinion. There’s a collective depression, and it affects people in different ways, depending on how they see January 25th and later taking down Morsi, who is now no longer with us. Plus, people are older now. Notions of patriarchy, heteronormativity, and so many other facets of culture can get more rigid with time. Even if they don’t like these ideas, as people get older sometimes old patterns of thinking resurface. I hope that I will not be that way when I’m older, but I’ve seen this with family members and other people that I know; it just reasserts itself. Somehow you end up renegotiating everything you’ve been taught as a child, you’re suddenly confronted with parts of your personality that remind you of your parent’s personality, “Do I become them or do I become something new?” This is a question that shifts with age, I think. The plan was always to go to Egypt for Christmas after dad died in 2014 because I needed to see everybody, but I decided to go early because I was in a terrible job situation in Thailand. My gut reaction was, “I need to get out of here, I have nowhere to go, I’ll just go to my family.” But just before I was supposed to leave Bangkok, I had this realization of, “Oh 🍴, I can’t be myself there, what am I doing?” You know as a foreigner in Bangkok, I was able to live pretty much however I wanted. But I convinced myself that it was okay, that I just needed to recover and that I needed to be with people that cared about me while I thought about next steps. But it was eye opening, to say the least, because I realized that I was less okay than I thought I was. It didn’t help that nobody was okay over there: they were not equipped to look after me or be okay with how comfortable I was taking the bus, for example. And not just the microbus, The Public Bus. They expected me to call the entire family for checkpoints along the way so they could make sure that I was still alive. Of course there’s always danger, though I can’t say with certainty if there is more or less danger on the streets of Cairo than anywhere else. Some places are always dangerous because of sexism, imperialism, classism, racism and other bull👕. No one can hide from any of that forever.
How did these daily experiences influence your goals of healing and recharging with your family?
Anytime I’d tell them about my terrible experiences in my work environment or with my boss, they’d basically just respond with a cavalier, “Ya, so? That’s life.” And while most of the time I’d have the presence of mind to respond with a, “Yes, but it doesn’t have to be that way,” it would get to me sometimes that they don’t have as many choices as I did. Without kids or a partner, I could move around with more freedom, I could switch jobs if I wanted to. It’s not like they could ever think, “Oh this boss is terrible, this boss is always on my case, this boss calls me at all hours of the day, this boss verbally and physically abuses me, maybe I will just leave…” They can’t. And they didn’t understand why I couldn’t just accept that reality. I ended up internalizing those perspectives, and it’s why I ended up staying in Egypt for so long ironically. I thought to myself, “What’s wrong with me? Why am I not strong enough to handle this bull👕?”
What I didn’t expect was that I would ever be able to talk about my queerness with anyone from my Egyptian side. I had pretty much determined that would be unsafe. There were even times where I’d freak out and imagine that if anyone found out, I wouldn’t be allowed around my nieces and nephews, that I’d be seen as some kind of virus, and that I’d be cut off from everyone--and that terrified me. There had been some tension in my family that existed prior to me arriving, but sometimes when there are problems and a new person comes in, tensions rise and that new person is blamed. I still don’t understand why an unmarried womxn in her thirties is so threatening to people. Honestly, it would be so much better if everyone didn’t see me as a womxn entirely! But people see a package, and being in this packaging, people assume certain things about my “usefulness” or my “value” or my “threat” because, depending on what color our skin is and what our bodies look like, we’re told that there’s not enough space for us, so we end up fighting for space don’t we? Most of the time I wanted to tell people, “Don’t think of me like a womxn, I’m not like that and I am not those things.” But that’s the struggle of gender, right? I wanted to tell them, “Gender is nonsense!” Because people can’t see how I see myself, they can’t see who lives in my mind. They just see my body, make their own assumptions, and then judge me. All I ever wanted to say to them was, “Listen, this is who I am, I am not a threat to anybody.” But if I said that then I’d be more threatening-- basically I was 🍴ed.
My mom, brother, and some of my other family members have known that I’m queer for many years, yet I couldn’t give my dad the chance to surprise me. I couldn’t risk the chance of him betraying me in that way; I couldn’t risk it, and I never did. There was an incident with a cousin of my father’s when I was living in New York, before moving to Thailand. My roommate cut my hair very short, and I posted it on Facebook. This cousin reposted it and made a comment, or rather, a crass joke, about Ireland just legalizing gay marriage. I confronted him and asked what that joke was all about, and he couldn’t give me a good answer. I told him, “I don’t know what you’re trying to say, but I don’t appreciate it. You don’t have that kind of relationship with me.” He took it down, but I could tell he was making an assumption about me, though he wasn’t willing to ask me the question or talk to me about it. He traveled to Egypt while I was there, so at some point I decided to confront him about it in person because there didn’t seem to be a way to move forward with that relationship without having a conversation. So, we went to some Americanish bar, those weird ones that they have in Maadi, and I bought him a tower of beer and I made him ask me. And by that I mean I told him, “You want to ask me if I’m gay.” When it came to discussing my sexuality and my queerness, or the shape of it, the experience of it, me going through it as a person, he didn’t want to know any of it. He just backed off. And though I thought it went down pretty well, in later conversations I realized that he didn’t actually engage with it. After that, I expected him to do the work for me, to gossip and tell as many people in the family as he wanted to, I didn’t care anymore. I thought that the people who want to understand me will come to me. Driving back with my cousin that night, I was surprised to have a really meaningful conversation with them. I didn’t expect anyone from the family to know me in that way, or be willing to know all sides of me, so that was really really meaningful to me. And that wouldn’t have happened if I wasn’t willing to sit down my dad’s cousin and say, “Look! What do you want to know, let’s talk about it. I’d prefer to talk about it instead of you being an ⚱️hole.”
Cocoa in Berkeley. Colors are fun.
Did you continue to have other meaningful conversations with additional family members after that?
There was one other cousin that I talked with, and I kind of just came out to her. My cousin pulled back into that same place of, “Okay, so what does that mean? No, I don’t accept this. I accept you but not this.” So I also pulled back and decided not to really deeply explain it; I just let her sit with it and decided not to put restrictions on her either. I figured that she can do whatever she wanted with that information, I just didn’t want to live with shame anymore. I don’t want to make it sound like if you don’t tell someone, it means your secret is shameful, but in my specific case, I didn’t want to worry about belonging to Egypt anymore. I realized that I was learning specific lessons from Egypt only, and the growth I was able to experience there had reached a plateau. Will I go back? For sure. But that feeling, that need to belong, is gone and I will be accepted on my own terms, as much as I’m untraining my mind to be accepted under other people’s terms. That will be a life-long unlearning.
Does it feel like you’ve closed the chapter with these cousins that you’ve come out to, or is there still some room for growth?
You know, who would have thought I could be all of myself? I didn’t know I could be; it only took a couple decades. Besides my dad’s cousin, no one else cited religious doctrine when disagreeing with my queerness. For multiple reasons I had decided not to tell my dad. We were all in Egypt at the same time for a cousin's wedding. I remember packing my bag when I heard some yelling; I entered the living room to find my brother and my father in a screaming match over the rights of gay people. The bible was being yielded as a weapon, there were hands doing threatening things, my mom was there just sort of distant, and my uncle turned to me and said, “I think your brother is confusing gay rights with civil rights, the rights of black people, he is confused.” And I just wanted to scream. I thought about coming out right then and there, “Let me give you all a real example to deal with.” But seeing how everyone wanted to yell and prove a point, their own point, it felt denigrating to hear them talk about who’s going to hell and who’s going to heaven. I knew it wasn’t my way. I’m not going to talk about who I am in order to prove a point, because it didn’t feel like it was about proving a point for me. I felt like, “This was my life.” My mom didn’t know it yet, my brother didn’t either--no one did. I don’t know, it didn’t make me feel safer--even though it seemed that I had an ally in the room. It didn’t feel safe, and it made me more sure that I wouldn’t be accepted by the people that I thought loved me the most.
Your experience is pretty unique in that you live at several different intersections. Do you feel any resolve about the Coptic piece?
At this point in my life, that part of my identity is pretty comfortable. I feel like being Coptic, queer, and mixed are all synonymous. It’s too old a thing for anyone to assume that Coptic culture has looked just one way for its entire history, or it has been one way the whole time. Egyptian history is ancient, there are things we don’t learn about pre-Nilotic culture or the Kushite (Nubian) pharaohs of the 25th Dynasty. I think queer people have been here the whole time, people need to accept it and make space for it because they can’t just keep pretending that we’re not here. They know. Seriously, gedos and tetas and someone’s baba know queer people on an individual basis. They’ve accepted it too, but they just don’t want to talk about it with each other. The pope is never going to say a good goddamn thing about it ever. It’s just a simple matter of accepting what you already see and being willing to understand. Whomever is willing enough, safe enough, privileged enough to be visible will make it easier for others who feel like they can’t be. And honestly, if you asked me about this a year or two ago, I probably wouldn’t have had this perspective. Nah, no way. Also, I’m not here to call out monastic culture to say it’s the gay haven, I’m just saying Egypt is the place where they invented monastism, or so we like to say. What greater example of fleeing the gender binary do you have? Of fleeing capitalism? I can’t assume a sexuality on an entire group of people, but that’s queer as 🍴. Isn’t queerness not only what we do with our bodies, but also what we do with our minds? It’s how you see yourself, how you see other people, and how you love people. In Egypt, homosexuality has been practiced by so many tribes and cultures, like the Bedouins, since ancient times up until the present. Emperors went there for lovers (that’s a whole other story), they’ve memorialized them in statues; it’s just a matter of forgetting what you know or what our grandparents refused to acknowledge. I think it’s safer for some people to deal if they think of the world like this; if the world is determined a certain way, then things aren’t shaky and you are not responsible for your choices nor do you have to think about things too deeply. Personally I find it more comforting that everything is changeable and everything is mutable. Nothing is new.
You know, I never thought I’d be in this situation, telling my story. How could I imagine that this platform would even exist? I have to say, it is timely, and we are brave and beautiful.
If you had to go back in time, what would you tell 15 year old Myriam?
I’d tell her, “Take your time.” Listen, none of these realizations came to me easily. If you have the privilege of space and time, take it. Be patient, love yourself, especially when you feel like you fall short. That’s definitely something that’s big for me--it always will be. We are not all born queerly confident. I’m still getting there, and so will you. If you don’t have the privilege of space or time, you need to find support. Find a book, a youth center, PFLAG group, GSA, chat room, Tumblr, I don’t know anything for 🍴s sake. Or maybe just hop in a time machine and come find me at The Turn Left; I will always listen.
Tell me more about your organization, The Turn Left.
The Turn Left is a forum for discussing ideas that better integrate the economy, society, and environment. The idea is to build on that space by having conversations with people from all different walks of life, to find ways for those three things to complement each other better. Then, eventually, we’d do those things in practice, and sustain ourselves instead of asking other people for money. The idea is for us to be a closed loop example of what it means to be a whole world instead of sacrificing many for the growth of some. We published a piece by Salma Mustapha Khalil called, “A Woman’s Place,” which is about public space in Cairo and how women and people on the feminine spectrum are limited in their access to it. This was written in response to an incident a few years back when a woman who recorded a man accosting her was shamed for exposing the harassment.
Has being queer influenced this project?
Sandra, the person who I started this with, and I met in Cairo. She had the idea years later, and came to me with it, and we realized that this is how we would keep ourselves sane, motivated, and grounded. The name came to me because I had just read This Bridge Called My Back, where Gloria Anzaldúa talks about the left-handed world, the world of possibility, the created space outside of conflicts. We don’t want The Turn Left to be an exercise in thinking about how to dismantle things, we want it to focus on how to build new things, a perspective Tannia Esparza showed us when she shared her piece. How do we build a world that teaches people to see others as they’d like to be seen? How do we build a world that isn’t divided by 7 billion different types of binaries? I’m disturbed by how much conversations come to, “Ya things are terrible and there’s nothing we can do about it!” How do we imagine beyond that? How do we not recreate hierarchies? How do we not bring the same bull👕 from heteroland into queerland? How do we build that for ourselves and for those who come after us?
How can people find The Turn Left and The Desert Salon?
Find us at www.theturnleft.org. We’re open to submissions. We’re also @tturnleft on Twitter. Take a look at the people we’ve talked to and at some of the discussions that we’ve had to see if you’d like to contribute. Also, we have our Desert Salon now--it’s a monthly radical discussion space where we learn together. We discuss everything from the imperialist/capitalist/heteropatriarchy to local water prices. One of the things that we hope is to build a community that takes joy in and relies upon one another. We want to help build lasting relationships where folks can exchange ideas like in the salons of old; creative, political, or otherwise. It’s just a simple act of making a physical space that’s open, safe, and reliable. For now, we’re located in the Antelope Valley in California, but I’m hoping to grow it eventually.
I’m curious, have Coptic people taken notice?
I dream and hope to have them in it. I know that people are curious, yet tentative. This is the way I’m seeing myself and the Coptic community now: the drawbridge is down. I’m not running away from anyone anymore, I’m not rejecting where I came from or who I am. Come find me, I’m here. I’ll be here, and I accept that people might come to me in their own time, as I come into myself in mine.
"Manzanar Split Tree"by thereshegoesagain is licensed under CC BY 2.0
In anthropology, they teach you to recognize patterns of human behavior. Many like to believe that it’s the science of human beings. That with its tools, we can make sense of humans. All I found was that we are animals doing performance art.
It’s also the science that helped Armchair Victorians answer the question: brown people, why? I didn’t see this you know, as a child. I didn’t see that anthropology was my way of chopping myself into pieces and turning the white piece to the brown piece to ask the same question.
Why?
Last year around this time, I was on a road trip. It was eye-opening in many ways. We visited ghost towns, old mining towns that had either run dry or were barely hanging on. Places ravaged and plundered by the reckless pursuit of natural resources. I never really processed that people still lived in these places and willingly called them ghost towns. Descendants of settlers, miners, or people trying to buy cheap property to cash in on tourists like us. Like me.
I don’t always feel brown, you see. Most of the time, I don’t even really allow myself to think about my own brownness. It’s never really been up to me. In the ghost towns of Nevada, I was brown. The stares told me so.
But the stares weren’t all meant for me. I was traveling with two older women, people who I considered new friends at the time. One, a tall gravely-voiced woman who gave no shits. White. The other was a smaller, wiser woman who also gave no shits, in her way. Black. Police cars drove by repeatedly. Groups of children came out to wave…and stare. There was ‘no room’ in the fancier hotel. I felt the stares on my back constantly. It made me furious.
If you had asked me at the time why I was so angry, I wouldn’t have been able to say. It’s not as if I haven’t felt that gaze before. Remember: I don’t allow myself to think about my brownness. Later, speaking with the smaller friend, the one who bore that gaze every goddamned day of her life, she told me something I hadn’t considered: they probably thought I was her mixed-race kid.
I am a mixed kid, of a different mix. It’s been my bane and my greatest strength. In those towns, some still thought it was a crime[1].
On our way back from Nevada, we stopped at Manzanar[2]. This was the site of an American concentration camp during World War II, two hours from where I grew up. I can’t really explain to you what I felt there, but the suffering will poison that ground forever. You can see it in the trees.
The taller one kept talking about how if we’re not careful, this country would put people in places like that again. I replied; this country has never stopped doing that[3].
I am back in that town that I grew up in, two hours from Manzanar. These days, Adelanto is only an hour away. Make no mistake, it’s a camp like any of the others. An ICE Processing Center they like to say. But I know what that means. Somewhere in your bones, you know it too.
Abolish ICE rally outside of Adelanto
Why have I not allowed myself to think of myself as brown? Because somewhere in my bones, I know what happens to brown people. The question that haunts me now is why would I ever want to be one of them? The ones who decide who’s white, brown or otherwise. The ones with privilege. With power. With the perceived superiority over others by virtue of crushing them beneath their boots.
I think I also tried to be an anthropologist to ask: Why do you do this to us? To my father? His people? My friend’s people? My neighbor’s people?
I can finally answer that question without anthropology. Because you forgot you are one of us. There’s more genetic variation in every other creature on this earth than there is between human beings.
We were all brown, once.
“I’m not interested in pursuing a society that uses analysis, research, and experimentation to concretize their vision of cruel destinies for those who are not bastards of the Pilgrims; a society with arrogance rising, moon in oppression, and sun in destruction.”
– Barbara Cameron “Gee, You Don’t Seem Like an Indian…” from This Bridge Called My Back
[1]More on Miscegenation laws in the US https://www.thoughtco.com/interracial-marriage-laws-721611
[2]https://www.nytimes.com/2018/07/07/us/manzanar-japanese-americans-internment-camp.html
[3]More on the relocation of Native Americans: https://www.thoughtco.com/the-trail-of-tears-1773597; On the prison industrial complex https://www.nytimes.com/2018/01/18/us/new-jim-crow-book-ban-prison.html; On profiling and surveillance of Muslims https://ccrjustice.org/home/what-we-do/issues/muslim-profiling
The root of the abortion debate is a joke; it is political garbage that masquerades itself as reasonable evidence and invokes a passionate divide on both sides. It does this to perpetuate the issue without ever solving the “need” for abortion. Now, before you continue to read this, know that I am not here to take either of those two sides, they ignore everything that in my opinion could actually point to a solution. The reason why such a complex issue has been simplified is not that either side is right or that there is a cookie cutter solution to this social issue.
In either case, I’m not going to discuss the making of these two very decisively worded labels. Instead, I am going to discuss how mainstream feminists continue to disregard the minorities that they should be fighting to protect.
That’s right, I’m going to talk about those liberal “Nancys” who continue to ignore the role of economic inequality in abortion. It's not always a race issue, but the numbers show intersectionality between income and race is a huge factor when it comes to abortion. There needs to be a push to minimize the abortion stigma to create a learning culture.
Global economic inequality is pro-choosing for you
Let's start by looking at some sources that define poverty since that is what I will be using to make this point.
Based on this, there is an issue with using the federal definition of poverty because it is influenced by the World Bank which considers extreme poverty as, well very extreme… meaning that they take into account only those who have $1.90 or less to spend on a daily basis. It has not adjusted for cost of living increases or how the face of poverty is changing. For this argument, I will only be taking into account the United States because it would be difficult to obtain the numbers on global economic inequality.
What are the numbers of people who are struggling on a daily basis? Well it is difficult to determine, as discussed in The Changing the Face Poverty in America, because there are a few things that need to be taken into account such as wealth distribution, how poverty itself changes over time (mainly as things become more accessible), cost of living relative to income in a specific period, and the way poverty can be discussed in the context of the time. Poverty now looks different than in the 1950s. Here are some examples of what poverty looked like in 2011.
Women are being influenced to choose abortion because of a lack of economic wellness. To quote the Guttmacher Institute:
“…the abortion rate among poor women remains the highest of all groups examined in the study, at 36.6 abortions per 1,000 women of reproductive age. Abortion has become increasingly concentrated among poor women, who accounted for 49% of patients in 2014.”
At a national level, the United States is witnessing extreme poverty being eradicated. Poverty is still there, it is simply changing. As long as this divide in which 31% of female-headed households or that more than 59% are African American, Hispanic or Asian in impoverished conditions, there will be single mothers of color who do end up considering abortion largely because of their economic disadvantage.
Pro-life does not allude to pro-living
When it comes to how income inequality can become a factor in an abortion decision, pro-lifers also aren’t faring that well. Pro-lifers’ choices often get in the way of others’ opportunities to gain economic wellness.
Current voting trends for pro-lifers favor conservatives who include abortion restrictions. These same conservatives, however, also favor economic strategies that perpetuate an income divide. By choosing to lower taxes on the top 1%, conservatives aren’t giving CEOs incentive to hire more or spread their wealth but rather increasing government dependence on middle-class taxation. Not only that but conservative policies also tend to reduce social programs that assist people in poverty.
There is a disconnect between the policies of conservatives and their demands on pregnant women. There ends up being a disregard of how economics can push someone to choose abortion. Those who are choosing to abort because of their personal economic status do it because they cannot guarantee a reasonable lifestyle for another child. I say another child because often they are already mothers choosing to abort. As the chart above highlighted, 55% of those having abortions are already mothers.
Addressing the historical context of abortions
In order for abortion to become less stigmatized and discussed fairly, there needs to be a separation from Margaret Sanger. Sanger has already been given more credit than was due: she founded Planned Parenthood and coined the term “birth control.” She is seen as respectable by “Nancy” liberals because she paved the way for facilities that focused on women's health and placed them in areas where people were not being “served.”
Ever noticed that you will find Planned Parenthood buildings concentrated in, or around areas with communities of color? In fact, a closer look at Margaret Sanger’s life reveals she held white-supremacist, eugenic beliefs that mixed into her life’s work.
After all this time her beliefs still have consequences. Remember those earlier stats? Abortion rates are higher in African American than white communities, even though they are a smaller group.
While Sanger might have had good ideas like highlighting women's health, freeing women from the burden of constant childbirth, educating people about contraceptives, those ideas are continuously overcast by her twisted intent. She was not fond of African American communities and believed their population should be controlled. As such, there is a need to be distant from her when discussing abortion because she was wrong to believe in racist discrimination. Likewise, Sanger’s inclusion makes some pro-lifers feel justified by her track record of enforcing beliefs on others. She doesn’t deserve the glory of a civil rights leader, thinking ahead of her time. She was specifically a product of her time.
During Sanger’s life, there was a social crisis where women were having illegal abortions in unsanitary conditions, dying from them or having seriously damaging consequences. Sanger was equally a product of America's eugenics craze where groups of people who would later have the power to decide who could have children erroneously believed that whites deserved to choose who to sterilize. As a product of her time, she should stay there. If you’re a disheartened mainstream feminist well, let me give you an ignored woman of science that maybe you could look into instead: the mother of the double helix, Rosalind Franklin.
We should take Sanger’s good ideas she had to offer society as a whole as starting points for us to continue the advancement of things like educating on parenthood for all genders; allowing women to have a right to their bodies and be able to use contraceptives at their own discretion, to be informed of them; as well as understanding the economic cost of bringing a child into this modern society.
Addressing both sides
True pro-choicers would not stand for these economic divides; they would rally to mitigate impoverished conditions.
Those who stand for current economic conditions aren’t protecting a woman’s right to choose but rather satisfying themselves with the tools that continue the need for abortions based on poverty or fear of it.
True pro-lifers would not be willing to pass on impoverished lives to newer generations. Instead, they would rally to fight off those conditions which have women consider the idea of an abortion. Pro-lifers who allow intergenerational poverty not only expect people to crawl out of it unscathed but also bear the economic responsibility of more children. They aren’t caring for ‘potential children’ but rather inflicting their belief onto others without any self-restraint or benevolence.
Whether you are a pro-choicer or pro-lifer, you would benefit by rallying together and trying to mitigate poverty to reduce the number of abortions needed because of lower socioeconomic status. Pro-choicers must realize that abortions done as a result of poverty are not done by choice because, I can assure you, nobody would want to choose poverty. Pro-lifers must realize that if they are going to enforce their personal choices on others then they too must make that commitment to quality of life.
Sources:
https://www.debt.org/faqs/americans-in-debt/poverty-united-states/
https://ourworldindata.org/poverty-at-higher-poverty-lines
https://prospect.org/article/changing-face-poverty-america
https://www.guttmacher.org/infographic/2016/us-abortion-patients
https://www.guttmacher.org/report/abortion-worldwide-2017
http://time.com/4081760/margaret-sanger-history-eugenics/
https://www.guttmacher.org/infographic/2017/abortion-rates-income
When I was a child I was told a great many lies, some by friends and family, others by society at large. Part of the reason I have a grudge against Disney is because they sold me a lie that it took until my 20’s to recover from: “Some day my prince will come.”. Society even supports this lie by saying “there is someone for everyone”, seeding the sense of inadequacy that develops from failed relationships and a lack of relationships. The sense of inadequacy that companies and marketing campaigns use to sell you things, and society blames you for, while ignoring that their messages mainly target white women and tell men they also don’t have to do anything as a partner will magically appear.
In anime the latter LITERALLY HAPPENS…but I can’t seem to find a gif for it so -
Discover & share this Dance GIF with everyone you know. GIPHY is how you search, share, discover, and create GIFs.
Now before I go all Fight Club on you (ha ha, get it? Cus satire?), the point I am making here is that we are raised with conflicting messages, messages meant to soften the full body blow that is the world we live in, maintain us as productive members of the social unit, and leave us imagining that even in a zombie apocalypse, we’ll all hold hands, pitch in, and make things work.
Discover & share this Annihilation Movie GIF with everyone you know. GIPHY is how you search, share, discover, and create GIFs.
Or not.
The other reason the above gif works is because just before the events it depicts, Robert Carlyle and his wife were sat at a table having dinner with an elderly couple who had let them and a few others hole up in their house to protect themselves from the zom-sorry, those infected with the rage virus. They were trying to ‘make it work’. On that note, another lie I was told was that kindness is always repaid. What was built in my little mind in contrast to the stark and later bleak reality was the idea that the universe always rights itself, bad people are punished, and good people are rewarded. The universe DOES right itself, our definition of ‘righting itself’ however is wholly human (individual even) centred, and what we forget is balance in the universe does not necessarily mean balance for US. Anyway, the notion that all will work out the way we want in the end is part of the trick that keeps society functioning and the point from which I would like us to break things down: kindness/cruelty, morals/ethics, the lies we tell ourselves and the lies we tell others. To make things a bit easier to follow we can imagine that on the one hand we have kindness/cruelty and morals/ ethics, and on the other the lies we tell ourselves and the lies we tell others. They all overlap, because the lies we tell ourselves and others are often about kindness/cruelty and morals and ethics. In short, we tell ourselves lies about how kindness, cruelty, morals and ethics function in the world to keep ourselves functioning in the world, and we tell others lies about those same things in order to keep both ourselves and others functioning in the world. Thus the web is spun.
So going back to the example I opened with, children get sold the idea that they will eventually find love, marry and have kids. In addition to sparing children the harsh reality that it may not turn out that way or could possibly turn out that way but unhappily so, adults feel like ‘good’ people for shielding children and themselves from the idea that maybe, but not absolutely, unhealthy relationships are all that lies in store. Because society has trained us that being alone is bad or means there is something wrong with you, so heaven forbid you wind up ALONE (cue scary reveal music). Also, it is assumed that if you are alone you are not helping to perpetuate society by HAVING CHILDREN, which is the other, more basic reason children are socialized to marry and have children.
So back to kindness/cruelty. We are all raised to believe that people are inherently “good” or kind and that when you are in trouble, someone will always help you. We believe in the Good Samaritan, the kindly bystander. What we ignore is that they are the exception and not the rule as our notions of good, bad and normal are in reality constantly shifting. Part of this is because ‘good’,’ bad’ and ‘normal’ are terrible words, empty in meaning and excellent place holders, and part of this is that as place holders they are filled with a general, but not mutually agreed upon understanding. They can mean everything and nothing at the same time.
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A good (ha ha) example of the issue with kindness/goodness is a form of the bystander effect. While training volunteers in Egypt to work against sexual harassment, a trainer showed a video of a crowd on a train platform in the UK. The idea was to show the volunteers how mass mentality works, and argue why it could work to stop harassers in public spaces. A group of actors had been hired to enact a pick pocketing to see how non-actors would react. The actor very obviously took the other actor’s wallet out of their pocket with the latter pretending not to notice, and in the video, it is clear that non-actors noticed, but no one said or did anything. Now we all like to imagine that if in that situation, we’d stop the pick pocket, but we know in our heart of hearts that is just not very likely. To be clear, I am saying UNLIKELY, not IMPOSSIBLE. We are more likely, as a second reenactment of the pick-pocketing showed, to do something when someone else does something first. This brings up the notion of discomfort; people are not comfortable in the moment of the situation when faced with ‘do something’ and stand out or ‘stay quiet’ and follow the crowd. At the same time, we do not like the idea that we are more likely to follow, or to seek permission to do something in public, or that maybe we just don’t care, so we tell ourselves that we are not that person, and that if a stranger needed help, we wouldn’t hesitate to act. Here’s some more proof for you.
But then this was the issue when it came to sexual harassment in public spaces: bystanders rarely if ever ACT, and they were even siding with the harasser. What the volunteers were being trained to do was change the flow of the tide so that more bystanders than not would stop the harasser versus support them or blame the harassed.
These kinds of issues also unfold in more personal settings. Take the classic example so common that if it hasn’t actually happened to you, you have most likely seen it in your favourite tv series: a woman goes to confide in her friend that she is being sexually harassed[1]. She is visibly scared, but her friend, instead of comforting her, asks her if she was sure what she experienced was harassment. The friend then proceeds to downplay the story, suggesting to the woman that maybe there was some sort of misunderstanding or surely the person didn’t mean for their actions to be perceived as harassment. Congratulations: here is a lie we are telling both ourselves and others. We do not want to shatter our belief that the world is a ‘good’ place filled with ‘good’ people, we do not want to see our friends and family hurt, and we want to impart that utopia to our friend through convincing her that maybe it didn’t happen the way she thinks it did, and urging her to go back to the mental state she occupied before the incident(s) occurred. In peddling this fiction, we are reinforcing a social norm that promotes toxic masculinities and femininities, and we are shielding ourselves from the idea that terrible things may happen to us and our loved ones, or that we may be the perpetrators of acts that cause others pain. The reality however is that we are all guilty of causing pain, and it is only when we face this reality head on that we can begin to take apart why we do these things, how we can change, and maybe how we can heal the wounds inflicted on others and those visited upon us. Then maybe reality will seem less terrible, and we won’t want to hide ourselves and our loved ones.
I could delve into these ideas further but there are too many things to unpack that would take us down many many side roads and into early retirement. Mainly what I was aiming at here is to get us thinking about how we could rethink what we do and how it impacts our own lives and the lives of those around us. Don’t be the silent bystander. Read your children the original Grimm’s Fairytales or stories where the princess saves herself (I am ashamed to admit I don’t know any off the top of my head, but I suggested Grimm because at least the prince loses the odd limb or gets derailed from his quest making it a bit more realistic). Take your friend at their word when they tell you they’ve been harassed/assaulted (I’m frowning at you Jussie Smollet.) Next time, I will try to tackle morals/ethics. Wish me luck and bring paracetemol. I’m off to watch the Promised Neverland.
Anime - Tech - Games - VR
[1]In this hypothetical the women is indeed being sexually harassed and there is no ambiguity. If you are wondering what defines sexual harassment you can read Gunilla Carstensens 2016 piece ‘Sexual Harassment: The Forgotten Grey Zone’ and/or watch the BBC clip ‘Is This Sexual Harassment’ (https://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/p06x0jv5)
Cempazuchitil (marigold) flowers as offerings to the ancestors of those who celebrate Dia de los Muertos
I spent three summers buried under wet sand thanks to Armida, the old school Xicana who met my mama while she waited tables at La Cocina de Tere and quickly became one of the handful of women who raised me. Armida taught me about floating. And beach sun. Sandcastles and living on boats and salty air in your hair. Side ponytails, and brown coppery lipstick-growing up Xicana by the sea. The last summer we spent together, Armida got sick. I was four when I had just learned the ABCs song in English and I couldn’t wait to sing it for her. I practiced the song all the way to her house. But when I walked into her room...her small body covered in white blankets, her voice soft, her eyes still loving, she was barely there. I knew it would be the last time I’d ever see her. I never sang her the song, no words to describe the feelings that come with endings at that time. Armida died. To this day I know I grew up Xicana by the sea because of her.
Four years ago, I was excited to participate in a circle of love called the Transitions Labs, a growing community experiment from the Movement Strategy Center asking many of us to ponder what we, as people living in this current moment, want to plant now to harvest 100 years from now, 1000 years from now, 10,000 years from now? The question has ebbed and flowed in my body ever since and while I’ve been doubtful of many things during my time alive, the only thing I’ve ever been certain of is my dream/wish/calling/commitment to be a mother to Xol one day.
Of course raising a child does not guarantee the survival of the best humans can offer. We ask ourselves overwhelming questions like...Is it audacious to think that what I can do now can be useful in 10,000 years? Will humans and life forms, as they exist now, even be around in 10,000 years? Or, what kind of something is important to plant if I will not be the steward of those seedlings? What responsibility am I passing onto someone or someones hoping they too decide it’s worthwhile to keep growing?
I always return to gratitude for having heart and thought partners to feel through these questions because they’re thoughts worth “moving at the speed of trust” as many in our movements say. Perhaps these aren’t so much doubts, but more of an attempt at loving, self-reflective accountability for actions taken now that will inevitably have ripple effects for our kin in near and far futures.
These thoughts aren’t unique. Many brilliant hearts and minds have been asking the accountable, courageous questions for a long time. Octavia Butler, wrote worlds and struggles and strategies into existence in her prolific writing interventions. I’ve been deeply touched by Adrienne Maree Brown, who has made huge offerings through her collaborations like Octavia’s Brood co-edited with Walidah Imarisha and her book Emergent Strategy, with tools, lessons, reflections and delicious footnotes for us to try, highlighting, among many nuggets of wonder, the ways nature “organizes” to survive. Our social justice movements are experimenting with old and new strategies approaching our current political moment with creativity and love. On Mother’s Day 2018, Southerners on New Ground (SONG), a regional Queer Liberation organization in the South, led “A Labor of Love: Black Mama’s Bail Out Action”.
The action, led by organizers, family members and loving community, released 30 black mamas and caregivers in the thick of money bail systems that for too long have targeted and preyed on working class people of color. SONG addressed the devastating racial and gendered impacts of growing U.S carceral systems on black mamas and black people in a collective action that changed the “flowers and cards” Mother’s Day Holiday into a platform for love and change making. Black Lives Matter and #MeToo have taken us on journeys, leveraging celebrity platforms, grounding us in the power of direct action and reminding us of the power that STILL lives in storytelling. In Brooklyn, New York, a small loving team of queer women and people of color bicycle riders started BiciNinxs, a summer cycling camp for brown and black girls ages 8-12, offering a space to learn how to ride, build, and maintain a bike and care for each other. @cycle.bici raised 5K to run three camps with over 20 girls in Summer 2018 funded through a grassroots fundraising campaign! These efforts seemingly large and small are all HUGE. Whether the work is largely visible or seen only in our homes, down the block, at church or at the farm, many are believing in an us now, and building for an us tomorrow.
I don’t know if Armida knew the impact she would have on my life. As I honor her memory in the simple mundane acts of humaness she offered, creating the most joyful glittery aspects of my childhood, I think about the ripple effects we experience in our short lifetimes and wonder if maybe what we can pass on as future ancestors, lives in the lessons offered to us everyday in the complex contradicting simplicity of being alive. Armida loved me. Made a home out of sand and ocean water for both of us to live our joy. Her love is not a social justice movement that everyone knows. But in my childhood riddled with harsh and trauma, her love WAS justice. Her love, like the love that grounds our movements and inspires us to keep trying even and especially when we fail is what deserves our awareness and thoughtful attention. It’s the reason I dare to dream about parenting.
Becoming a mother to Xol one day is bold in this time of such hurt. To have these dreams, commit to them, and do is the work of believing. Trust. The work of love. I write about Xol, speak of and to Xol often. I used to think I needed to keep Xol to myself, like uttering their name would spoil their arrival, but they came in a dream almost a decade ago and named themselves (They/Them is pronoun I use on purpose as I would like to support Xol in deciding how they want to be gendered.) I know now Xol is an ancestor returning, an ancestor I’m welcoming into this world with words like I do with veladoras and cempazuchitil flowers on Dia de Los Muertos for our dead. The more I speak of them, the more they become.
The world I believe in and love is like the baby Xol I believe in and love- I’ve never seen or touched either of them, but I’m committed to being part of the dreaming, plotting and loving that brings them both into existence.
As we begin 2019, I’m setting intentions to continue this parenting/world dreaming in conversation with loving community.
Below is a list of writings, guides, podcasts, and brilliance that has continued to help shape these thoughts and held space for courageous questions:
● How to Survive the End of the World Podcast
Culture plays a very big role in how we understand public and private space. Where I come from, for the most part, private space is a myth. In Egypt, we find pride in our social nature. We love the fact that our homes are always open, our tables are always welcoming and our spirits are mostly high. In our culture, we celebrate coming together for feasts, for birthdays, for funerals. And for revolutions. However, this hospitality rarely extends to the public space – to the street. Culturally, and sadly, a man’s place is in the public space while the private space is the woman’s, to exist in but not to rule or control.
Then there is the political side. Recently, we’ve lost the ability to be so social. Even if we don’t count all the friends lost and relationships that broke over the political rupture we’ve gone through, it has become risky to exist in big groups in public. Demonstrating is illegal and in a legal system where everything is poorly defined anything can be deemed a demonstration. And ever since the crash of the Egyptian pound, private gatherings are simply unaffordable. This break in how we’re meant to live our life, how we understand our existence in the space we inhabit has broken us – well, dented us. My generation has already been battered and had their blood and bones splattered on the very streets we now have little access to. Demonstrating much other than our miserable individuality is highly frowned upon. We are a living manifestation of divide and ruthlessly conquer.
Public space is also, of course, gendered. For men, the public space is the street; for women – the public place is her life. Our (in)ability to walk down or stand on the street is a consequence of women being perceived as the object of observation. We are constantly under scrutiny for the specific purpose of judgment – by everyone - including, most heartbreakingly, other women. When does she leave her house? What time does she go home? How often is she out? Who does she go out with? Where are they likely to go? What is she wearing? Answers to these questions are to be known, by neighbours and the infamous bawab (doorman). Then, if you pass that impenetrable filter of respectability and honour, and are about to get married, how you inhabit your personal space is now next on the list. Can she cook? Can she clean? Does she take care of herself, or does she let herself go once nobody is looking? Is she a pretty-matching-PJs kind of girl or wretched hair-don’t care kind of girl? We live for the gaze, and practice existing for it, even in private.
A while ago, a girl was standing on the street, in suburban Cairo (not that this should be relevant), when a man approached her and invited her for a cup of coffee. He claimed to only want to relieve her of the harassment she’d get by simply standing there, and that he was “not bothering her”. Her response was that he was in fact bothering her. She then posted the 30 second video on Facebook and it blew up… in HER face.
Uploaded by happy new year 2019 on 2018-08-16.
Initially, most people were hung up on the man’s mispronunciation of the name of the café where he suggested they go, and completely disregarded the intention of the video. He’d just invaded her personal space and had used her own inhibitions against her. Yet, he became a public figure as a victim of unjustified shaming. She, on the other hand, was declared as deserving of his minor trespass - and the shaming that followed, given the way she was “probably” dressed. She wasn’t actually visible in the video, yet, reposting Facebook photos of her in short dresses claiming “She was asking for it” was seen as perfectly acceptable, deserved even. The argument about her clothing is that she “dresses like a European, so she should accept this supposedly European behaviour” of being asked for coffee by random men on the street; “it’s not like he verbally abused her - or worse”.
The consequences of these 30 seconds were fame for the man and complete desecration and isolation of the girl who lost her job, her reputation and even some friends.
There are no social rights for a woman in Cairo. There are only responsibilities. She is responsible for her own reputation, as well as the reputation of the men in her life. The way she behaves is instantly a reflection on the men that she is associated with - father, brother, husband and, very quickly, son. Hence, the rush everyone is in to shut down her ability to self-express. A girl, we’re told in school, is a direct expression of the morals of her entire family. She is also an expression of where the entire society falls on the moral spectrum.
In the debate against the girl, people attacked her for shaming him. Her morality was reduced to not caring about another human, despite her own position of vulnerability against him. There were also debates on whether she had a good reason to be standing on the street to begin with. She put herself in harms way; as if harm is inevitable – and sadly, in Cairo it is. That same argument was used against protestors killed and injured in police attacks – why were they there? It seems to be the way we perceive the world in Cairo: harm is inevitable and it is our responsibility to get out of its way – fighting it, eradicating it, is not an option.
Once her own images came to light, a miserable twist occurred; people blamed her for her own misery. While his reputation deserved saving, hers was everyone’s property to do with whatever they wanted. The way she dresses was seen as unacceptable – skinny jeans are an abomination, and hence, anyone is entitled to attack her. She was portrayed in long posts as this demon that is out to destroy the lives of innocent men just going about their days by being a walking sin. In fact, someone claimed she was lucky someone was nice enough to offer to get her out of harm’s way – or rather stop her from being harm to other people, by simply existing in that space.
This brings us to the religion argument. Islam calls for modesty. A woman (and in fact a man) should always be modest in the way they present themselves to the world. Dress decently and – more relevantly humbly. A woman should not be a point of attraction. One argument against our fellow Egyptian woman was that she dresses attractively; hence she is inviting and should bear the consequences of her decision to draw eyes to her. These arguments dismiss the elements of that very religion that also demand, all of us, men and women, to cover our eyes from what we feel is too revealing. Again, the responsibility – of both man and woman – falls solely on the woman. Shortly after the incident, and another one involving the murder of a husband defending his wife against a harasser, Al-Azhar declared that harassment is haram (forbidden) in Islam, regardless of what the woman is wearing.
The main aspect of this situation with which I’m struggling the most is the amount of women that not only rushed to the rescue of the man’s reputation, but inhumanely and with painful certainty shattered the girl’s. From where I am sitting, seeing a video like this, all I can feel is admiration for her bravery at holding up a camera to a man approaching her on the street and not letting herself be paralysed by fear at what he could be capable of. She is not oblivious to the existence of plenty of people like him who would rush to his side and attack her; yet she proceeded to post the video online anyway. I would be terrified and I was and am for her. I still catch myself, after years of living abroad, scanning the area around me and making sure there is always safe distance between me and the next man on the street; that is after finally learning to walk with my back straight and pretend to be comfortable! Look straight as opposed to the ground and not speed up frantically when someone walks close to/behind me for some time.
I have been wracking my brain, trying to understand or relate to how someone who walks the same streets I do, who witnesses the same things I have witnessed can completely break a fellow fighter-for-mere-existence like that. But then I remembered. When the declaration by Al-Azhar came out and after some discussions with friends about its possible value, it hit me. We have internalised this responsibility; it has gone so deep in some of us that they have managed to wear their adjustment to these conditions as a badge of honour. For those who are familiar with The Handmaid’s Tale, they’re the wives of Gilead, who are proud of their share in the oppression and use their place to abuse other women who practiced their freedoms.
An image from Azeri photographer Alexandra Kramer-Khomassouridze’s exhibition ‘Faces of Freedom’. She interviewed and photographed 50 women living in Baku, Azerbaijan about their opinions of freedom and the hijab.
I flash back to a time where I would cover up to leave the house, like it wasn’t about the street, like it was my decision, like my body cover is the way I should be, it is my invisibility cloak that will get me from point A to B without drama. I remember dismissing the incidents where it didn’t work. I remember seeing girls who dressed up and looked nice and simultaneously thinking they were making things harder for themselves while picturing what I would be wearing if it were up to me. And this is what I think it might all come down to – us thinking it is not up to us. It is up to society, to culture, to religion what we wear and how we exist – and society, culture and religion all tell us to exist in the way that makes life easier for men. Be ugly on the street and sexy at home. Be everything and nothing all at the same time. Saving our best for our husbands and choosing to follow the religious instructions because they are meant for us, to protect us and to make us worthy. Sound familiar?
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Something has always felt off about this logic but I could never quite put my finger on it. Until I attended a certain religious lecture where the teacher was talking about modesty and used her own daughter’s outfit as an example of what not to do. She then proceeded to warn us against all the ways men are horrible and how our protection falls on our own shoulders. She went on and on reciting instances where men have harassed women who fit the code of how to behave and left it for us to imagine what they would do if we did not even abide by that code. Religion was only there to protect us against those horrible creatures that are men.
I realised in this moment, that our practice as women, whether religious or social is entirely driven by fear – we exist on survival mode. Our beliefs are derived from an assumption of the inevitability of harm and the best we can do is follow whatever rules there are to keep it at a minimum. It was a counterproductive lecture, because her instructions were contradictory: cover up so men don’t justify their harassment, but know they will harass you anyways. Veiling up is not a religious practice to have a relationship with God, it’s a defensive act, one that comes from expecting the worst of others. This middle-aged woman does not know how to survive otherwise and there she was dooming us all to that same inhibiting mindset. And, sadly, I cannot blame her because this is the experience she has of life.
I believe that the girls who attack a victim of harassment are stuck. They have squeezed themselves into the role ascribed to them by a lifetime of instructions and threats and are hit every day by the uselessness of it and the possibility of an alternative. A slightly bitter theory would stipulate that they do not want that girl to “have her cake and eat it too” whatever the hell that means. They refuse to believe that a person should be able to do what she wants and get away with it, that’s just not how our society works. They attack her for trying. They have finally mastered walking the thin line society has set for them and see any alternative as discrediting their efforts, and challenging their place as the only group worthy of respect.
This perspective, sometimes translates into moral superiority. Once one follows the rules of how to be the best example of an Egyptian woman, they welcome the holier-than-thou entitlement. If someone is following rules that strain them, that make them uncomfortable they will constantly need to give themselves some motivation to keep going. They need this view from their high horses; they need to constantly reclaim this spot, through reminding everyone else that they are down below in the mud. A person who is satisfied with where they are, who is being themselves does not care where other people are in the field, in fact they hardly notice. They are content in themselves.
And I say this from experience. I am someone who has struggled with the rules; I tried to internalise them, to fit in, to make it work. I wondered why I followed these rules and found it so hard while other people found it easy, and another group found it easy to not be concerned with the rules at all. I have envied both groups equally and for the longest time dreaded attempting to abandon the struggle because I didn’t know who I’d be if not a rule follower. Self-reflection is difficult, it requires venturing into the unknown, and starting on a path we’re not always sure about where it leads. But the one thing it leads to is a lack of attention to and concern with how other people handle their personal lives. But when our moral code forces us to live a life of proving to others that we are rule followers, a good following allows us to also meddle and judge other people’s choices. It would lead a woman to feel entitled enough to yell at me to “cover my hair” in the middle of the street. And sadly enough, the same applies for “liberated” women who attack those who find themselves in the social or religious code. Because believe it or not, veiled women get harassed and discriminated against too, accused of backwardness and assumed to lack agency and choice. The latest case in point, this Bar Rafaeli ad; not to mention their exclusion from spaces within their own communities.
Hoodies Winter 18-19
The debate on women’s rights in the world is on-going. It’s true that it is one of very slow evolution, but – well, it exists. We have women and more recently men (thank God – finally!!) all over the world, advocating and raising awareness about the recent discovery that women are fully human and they need to be treated as such…you know, be allowed to work and have equal pay and not have their bodies invaded.
In Egypt, we’re still discussing the right of a woman to safely walk down the street – to simply stand on the street. We are setting conditions for that; her safety supposedly depends on where she’s standing, how she’s standing, what she’s wearing and – pretty much her very existence. It is not true that how you dress protects you. You get harassed anyways; and it is baffling for those of us on this side of the fight to realise that there are women who do not see this problem. Who blame other women for their own assaults! And the sides are not guided by the way we dress, or how we choose to inhabit space. They are guided by our belief that women should be able to practice their personal freedom over their bodies and their life choices, and defend their rights regardless of those choices. But unfortunately, until a significant portion of us engage in self-reflection and practice mercy on ourselves and others, we’re not likely to go anywhere.
This is still too real.
I could not quite say what it was about 2017 that brought witches to mind. Pop culture references might have triggered it (looking at you Samantha Bee and Broad City). There was also that horror/not horror/scarily accurate movie The Witch.
Now, now, hold it right there. Yes, you, panicking about another damn feminist polemic. While I wear the feminist badge proudly, this is not a feminist piece. It might ring more true for those on the feminine spectrum, yes. Still, I would suggest the amount of fear you feel reading these opening paragraphs is about how much you need to read them. It will go a long way to help us both understand the rage of many of the people in our lives. Perhaps it will even explain your own rage. All I know is that something must change about the way we use the word ‘witch’.
I take it back; perhaps this all started with a book I read. Most things do. It was Witches, Sluts, Feminists by Kristen J. Sollee. While it focused on the history of witchcraft in Europe and North America, Sollee’s main argument was that ‘slut’ is the new ‘witch’. There was always something sexually charged about calling a woman a ‘witch’, a threat to wholesome society. These days, ‘slut’ takes on that particular role. Both words have been used to police the out-spoken, the empowered and the sex-positive. Many have swung from a rope or have burned at a stake for little less than being different over the centuries. It was uplifting to read the stories of folks reclaiming ‘witch’ and ‘slut’ as their own.
Reading Sollee’s book resonated with me as I spent time with my own family in the Old Country. I was in that precarious space of unmarried and 30. So my family talked to me and about me differently. I am a mixed kid who has had the privilege of travel so I know that an unmarried woman above a certain age is always viewed as some kind of threat. As I adjusted to this new way of being seen, I started to notice a theme in the stories about my non-male relatives. I had always accepted as fact that grandma was ‘mean’ and grandpa was ‘gentle’. My father’s family is a matriarchy since the person with the highest authority is a nun. But only technically, since a nun sacrifices gender and sex for eternal service to the Big G in the Sky. My family accepts the nun as powerful because she is not a woman anymore. Grandma, well, she was mean. The most I could learn about Grandma was that she was into ‘spiritism’. This immediately made me interested. I found instead that my family wanted me to understand that ‘mean’ women mess with the spirits, and vice versa. Beyond that, mouths clamped shut.
Allow me to keep track of the words: Witch. Slut. Spiritist.
To my family’s dismay, I started to take city buses. I cannot resist public transportation, no matter how dangerous. Who does not want to go upwards of 20 miles for cents on the dollar? It also gave me time with another book on this journey: Headscarves and Hymens: Why the Middle East Needs a Sexual Revolution by Mona Eltahawy. Eltahawy is a polarizing figure in the Middle East. Since her incendiary article in Foreign Policy, critics have called her many things. Many of the critiques of her article are fair. Misogyny is not inherent in Islam, a point she is careful to make in Headscarves and Hymens. So let me be clear here as well: no one’s country or religion makes them a terrible human being. If someone does not treat people well, it is likely due to a history of abuse, ignorance or patriarchy.
Eltahawy takes issue with certain interpretations of Islamic law and those clerics who use it to oppress others. She has never stopped being a Muslim woman and continues to practice her faith while still identifying as a feminist. She was all anyone could talk about for a solid part of 2012. She sparked an important conversation, nonetheless. Respect must be shown to the ‘mad’ woman who calls out injustice, even if she is on her own. After all, don’t we all go a bit mad when we aren’t listened to?
Witch. Slut. Spiritist. Mad.
On those brand new buses into the city, I cried reading Eltahawy’s words. She has always been unafraid to call the discriminatory personal status laws in the Middle East and North Africa hatred. These are laws that cover family issues such as marriage, divorce, child custody, and inheritance. What concerns Eltahawy and many other human rights critics is that these laws are biased against women, queer folx and free speech. They vary between region, country and cleric. In severe cases, women are required to marry their rapists. Generally, they are wards of their fathers or husbands. Sex outside of marriage is illegal across the region, particularly if it is queer. Consequences for free speech and political dissent have, of course, grown stronger since 2011.
Do not be mistaken, I was not crying because I was reading about gender discrimination on a bus in the Sahara. And believe me, there are an overwhelming number of incidents of sexual harassment on buses and train cars like it. I cried because I had lived that discrimination, even as a first-generation American. Hate may be legal in the cities of North Africa but it lived in the White Baptist halls of the schools I went to in the United States of America. I cried from bearing the weight of that hateful gaze no matter where I was.
Since I have been back in these United States, it has become harder and harder to deny how heavy that weight is. The Supreme Court confirmation hearings, for example, have been pure spectacle. Citizens have a right to judge all public servants based on their treatment of those more vulnerable than they are. We rarely do that, though. Private conversations in kitchens and coffee shops do not count. I mean actually holding our representatives, our colleagues, our bosses, our friends to account for how they treat others. Yes, #MeToo and all that but, have you noticed how hard it is to make the accused face actual consequences?
It is difficult to make someone face their mistakes. The more public, the more like a circus it becomes. I will be a tad bit more US-centric here: it has been difficult to charge anyone in the Trump administration with anything. By anything, I mean the full spectrum of tax evasion to rape. I mention this because of how many times I have heard someone in that circus say the word ‘witch-hunt’. I had trouble understanding who exactly the witches were: were they the ones who accuse or were they the ones being accused? It was a special kind of twisted to hear wealthy, prominent white men compare their public scrutiny to a hate crime. That is what witch-hunts are folks:hate crimes. Guess what? The numbers do not support the idea that prominent white men are being hunted.
This graph was originally printed in The Economist but don’t let the article fool you. Take a look at how hate crime rates have grown since 2015.
I am left with the same question: who were the witches? The numbers in the graph above would suggest they weren’t white men in 2015, especially in the United States.
A portion of the infographic published by the Organization for Security and Cooperation in Europe’s (OSCE) Office for Democratic Institutions and Human Rights (ODIHR).
If we take a more global look, the Office for Democratic Institutions and Human Rights shows that the most hunted were not women in 2016. Many identified as women, many did not, most were queer, and a great deal were brown or black. Humanity has so much fear and hate for more than just women who are different. What was it exactly that they had for us to be afraid of?
It is strange, but the word that comes to mind is power. Humans are tribal and more often than not, we kill or maim what we are afraid of. Sometimes, for brief beautiful moments in time, we rally together and rage against hate crimes and turn the world upside down. Sometimes, we stop hunting witches and we become them.
I would like to add another word to that list I was keeping track of: Witch. Slut. Spiritist. Mad. Revolutionary. That is what I ask those of you who feel rage and dismay to become. If you are feared for being different, for simply being what you know in your soul you are, you are a witch. You are a revolutionary. You have the power to protect one another. You have the power to create community. You have the power to reject courts and systems that do not serve you. You and I are the ones who grant them authority. Let us not do that anymore, shall we? Our time will be much better spent creating.
This is the lower portion of the Catalan Atlas of the Western Sahara from 1375. It features King Musa Kieta I (Mansa Musa) of Mali holding a scepter and a gold coin. Mansa Musa founded one of the oldest universities in the world, built schools across his kingdom and mosques across the Sahara Desert. He is a prime example of history not commonly taught.
Here at The Turn Left, we’ve thought a lot about causes. Name one and we’ve mulled over it, gotten involved in it, attended conferences on it, or penned scholarly papers about it. No matter what it is, it’s in a long line and someone from the cause in front likely said, “Wait your turn”. You know the activists I mean: the environmentalists who don’t think it’s the right moment for LGBTQ+ rights or LGBTQ+ activists who refuse to acknowledge misogynoir.
So, we decided to have a 'chat' about causes. Are they really mutually exclusive?
Myriam: The more time I spend in cause-based life, the more I find that whatever rifts come between activists have only somewhat to do with The Cause. We recreate the idea that there is so little space, money, time, or resources that it is impossible to truly share equally. This is the lie our institutions tell us and precisely the lie we fight when we ask for equal rights or safety for minorities.
Inevitably, when passionate people come together, they disagree. In activist communities those disagreements become huge debates over white privilege or misogyny—both of which do play huge roles in how we speak to each other and decide what actions to take. I find that we hide personal spats behind the big ideas. Sometimes, it really is a simple failure of humanity between colleagues that no one apologizes for. Sometimes, it’s a betrayal of one cause for another. More often, it’s both.
Every time, however, it’s almost impossible to tell the difference. I always find myself relieved to be in an activist space in the beginning. The political correctness eventually does start to flake off after long hours painting signs. Each time I find myself asking: Why do we still believe the lie?
Sandra: I see what you mean about this idea that resources are perceived as limited. This could be a holdover from the 'spaceship Earth' idea touted by Buckminster Fuller (see Adam Curtis’ documentary All Watched Over By Machines of Loving Grace), but I think it also makes us realise that HOW terms and concepts come about is also problematic. For example people have to identify under the term 'minority' for their grievances to be legitimised in the eyes of large bodies such as the government (see the work of Saba Mahmood).
Buckminster Fuller had to convince people to think of Earth as a self-contained ship in space just so that people would start being more environmentally conscious (or so Adam Curtis tells us in All Watched Over By Machines of Loving Grace). I think activists don't always educate themselves outside their given cause, adding to your point and making it easier to keep things personal. There's nothing wrong with being personally attached to the cause you are pursuing; I prefer that to people who are just 'there', but it is super important to do the background reading. That enables you to see how things are interconnected and maybe avoid this hiding of personal spats behind big ideas.
At the same time I think the latter point may involve an element of selflessness people do not always possess. We are living in an age where people have the freedom to express themselves in new and different ways (and reap the sometimes horrifying consequences), but what I find myself wondering often is how to translate that expression into action that those in power will actually respond to. We get very bogged down in the details of what and how we want things to change for our given cause, and in so doing fail to see the commonalities with other causes. So maybe the problem is that there is so much information out there that people do not always realise the ways in which resources are not limited? Maybe it is also the argument made about people becoming trapped in their own bubbles and not actively seeking people who have different ideas?
Myriam: I agree, there’s a lot of history and theory that goes alongside movements. I am worried here, though, about the division between those who read and those who do not read. Movements often prize those with education over others and it doesn’t always protect the movement from division. Those leaders should be careful what knowledge is treasured and not allow their movements to be divided along lines of privilege.
To be clear, I’m not looking down my nose at reading. I don’t know where I’d be without the books I’ve had access to. I just want to keep in mind that book-learnin' is yet another way we divide our efforts. There are many different ways to learn and we should use them all. Chief among those is empathy. How many training manuals are there out there for empathy? I know the works of Paolo Freire and bell hooks aren’t chiefly concerned with empathy but there must be others like them whose work has been translated into dozens of languages.
There are a lot of bubbles and echo chambers. We should have more exposure to different models of governance and organization…and find ways to build consensus properly. We are socialized to seek hierarchy, to reproduce hierarchy. Or even that the best will naturally rise to the top, to trust in the meritocracy. We dive deep into our causes because we have seen that this is not true: we don’t all start life with equal chances at success so how can we really tell who is the best?
We need to train ourselves to think differently, to plan differently. It scares me how difficult it is for me to break those simple patterns in my own work. Who can we learn from?
Sandra: This can be dangerous territory as this is how some people see the divide between left and right extremes in the US—those that read and those that don’t. I am not saying that this is what you are talking about, but I just wanted to be clear for our readers’ sakes. I wonder though—if everyone read to atleast a certain minimum, would we still call it a hierarchy or try to pursue one? What if we ensured that everyone read the same things or atleast the same variety of things?
Absolutely reading is not the only way to learn—knod at Tim Ingold and embodied learning (see his book The Perception of the Environment: Essays on Livelihood, Dwelling and Skill)—but sometimes when people have different experiences based on, for example, skin colour it may be a medium that has to be relied on. There are still some experiences people cannot have, and that is where both reading and talking to people can be helpful. In that sense, what if we all knew how to build/make things? What if we engaged in more projects that involved learning through doing/experiencing alongside people who were different to us in some way?
I agree entirely that there should not be a division between those who read and those who do not, and there may be a bit of ego that needs to be overcome there. There is an assumption that people cannot communicate or that if they can they can do so only to certain point. So how do we overcome this? And what about how people divide themselves over causes? I admit I have my moments of preferring animals and environmental work over working with humans, but that has yet to stop me from working with humans. How do we get to a point where the majority of people can see the overlaps between the environment, the feminist struggle, struggles of peoples of colour and so on until the end of the list?
Because it is all bound up in the personal, what people have read, and what they believe the world to be. It may also boil down to what some are willing to do in the realm of acceptability. There is what people do so others see them doing it, and what people do and think for themselves...aand suddenly we find ourselves in the territory of morals and values which is a whole other conversation.
Myriam: Practically, I think we have to start making cooperative spaces. We have to train ourselves to think differently. That may mean expanding our realm of experience with other people’s stories, written or otherwise. That may mean actually taking or crafting courses that focus on building consensus and facilitation. Learn from the moments in history where goals and leadership were shared rather than the moments they all fell apart.
Personally, I’ve wanted to learn more about federations of the First Nations such as the Iroquois and other systems of governance. There is more to history than what happened in Ancient Greece and Rome. Not to discredit the classics, mind you, we just need to create more space for the actual history of the WORLD.
Everyone I’ve ever met in politics or activism is tired of the way things are but so few take the extra step to make actual changes. In some ways, we need a complete system overhaul: decentralized leadership, mentorship, consensus building, and ALL the trainings. We have to learn what the new world can look like if we’re trying to build it. Boldly going blindly with only the status quo behind us is too slow going. For the poor, the marginalized, the economically vulnerable, we have no more time to waste.
Sandra: You know what? I think WE are the solution to this! In a serious vein though, what specifically would training ourselves to think differently look like? I think looking outside the histories taught in schools is crucial, especially as it enables us to think about the different ways we have come to be where we are socially and politically, and it reminds us that we are dealing with issues and modes of being that are not linear but hypercomplicated.
To push your points further, Greek and Roman history and philosophy have varying influences on global historical trajectories, and overshadow the impact of Indian, Arab, African (plural) and East Asian histories to name a few. Also, this ties back into your earlier points about empathy and destabilising hierarchy, which then ties into ongoing attempts to decolonize different institutions alongside decolonial projects. Moving towards existing groups and organizations, maybe it would be helpful for groups who target multiple ‘causes’ to re-stress the overlaps between all causes, to coax people out of their specific corners? To teach across and around rather than top down? Everyone IS tired, but in addition to not acting people often do not know how to act, or think their actions won’t make a difference anyway (another issue touched upon in an Adam Curtis documentary).
I sometimes think of it like a post-apocalyptic world: everything has been supposedly destroyed and torn down, but people still carry the structures and institutions of the ‘old’ world with them. They cling to them for a sense of stability and comfort. When I was a child I was asked to design my own country and government. So, how would we, as a plural, hybrid, hyper complicated people, design our own country? A system overhaul means stepping into the unknown and the potentially unknowable, but we can’t know where that boundary lies if we do not try to step across it.
Has the political climate got you down? Anxious about hurricane season? Worried about the carbon footprint of avocado toast? Well, sometimes we feel that way too. Allow us to soothe some of your concern with the following primer on how to be a decent human in the pre-Apocalypse.
What is Kombucha* Anyway?: Social Exchanges
- Try to see everything from more than one perspective. This is called empathy. It will serve you well.
- Introducing yourself or being introduced to someone is always a good point at which to ask someone what they wish to be called or what pronoun they prefer.
- When people ask how you are, it is usually polite to reply and ask them how they are as well. This includes non-verbal communication such as e-mails. It is also a good idea to listen to what they say when you ask.
- If you have a burning question that you are afraid to ask because it may be offensive, perhaps it is better asked to Google first. Google, DuckDuckGo, not 4chan.
- If you are having trouble paying attention to what someone is saying to you, repeat what they are saying to yourself inside your own head.
- The only way you can consider someone an exception to a race, gender, etc, would be if you had ACTUALLY MET every single person in that category. In other words, it is NEVER ok to call someone ‘an exception for your [insert category here]’. Be proactive and meet more people who are different from you.
- Potentially problematic burning questions aside, it is a good idea to ask people questions about themselves. It is generally not problematic to ask questions like “What kind of music to you like?” or “What kind of hobbies do you have?”. “What are you?” or others like it are not acceptable questions. Do not phrase questions to confirm your assumptions.
- Fruit is exotic. People are not.
- As much as is possible, do the things you say you will do. People, friends, and Cambridge Analytica will appreciate it.
*Kombucha is essentially living tea made from scobee cultures and herbs/spices du jour. The point being: it’s good for your gut and hopefully these tips will be too.
You Can’t Hug Your Child with Nuclear Arms: Environmental Care
- Try to avoid plastic if you can. It suffocates animals, poisons humans and doesn’t die.
- The portable shetafa/bidet will change your life.
- You’ve probably heard you should use coal, gas and oil sparingly. You know what else should be on that list? Water. For examples see Cape Town.
- Reusables are your friend. The takeaway shop won’t look at you too weirdly if you show up with your own containers for food. Anyway, they’ll eventually stop looking at you weirdly.
- Building or making your own things can be fun. Chances are it will save you money.
- Invest in things that last and/or can be repaired. Outdoor clothing companies are grand at mending things you buy from them. We can encourage more to follow suit if we reward those companies with our money.
- Electricity is a luxury that we share with our neighbors on a grid. Always know where your fuse box is, and maybe look up how the wiring of basic household objects works.
- Toolboxes are handy. No not just the ones for building websites.
- It really is a good idea to learn to grow your own food. Plants have natural complements that can make less work for you, act as a repellent to pests and replenish the soil.
- Make use of public transportation. The more you use it, the more you have a right to complain and force local governments to make them better.
- Vinegar, sometimes with baking soda, can disinfect, clean and unclog most things. Also good for deodorant and mosquito bites. There are alternatives to many if all of the toxic products that you may have for cleaning. They are healthier for you, your pets, your tiny humans and the environment. Have a Google, enjoy yourself.
- While we are on the topic of things toxic, here’s another freebie: lemongrass, citronella, eucalyptus and lime oil make good general repellents. Much safer for you than DEET.
I have lived in the UK for 18 years of my life. I did my GCSE’s, my Highers, and my undergraduate degree here. My first bank account was opened here, it is in this country that I paid my first bills. For all intents and purposes and from a fiscal perspective, this is where I come from. As far as people are concerned that is not the case. People in the UK classify in part through accents; I have an accent that is mostly from the US, so to them that is where I must be from, where my allegiances must lie, where I must call home. Accent, however is only part of what makes a person, and really points to how one learned to speak. In most cases it can be said that one learns to speak in their home country, taught by their parents who also came from that country, but therein lies a few glaring omissions. Firstly it assumes that one always learns to speak in their so called ‘native’ setting, and secondly it assumes that people in their latter years cannot teach themselves to speak differently.
To clarify, none of that is true for me. I was born in a country that neither of my parents had a connection to, to parents who were born and raised in different countries to each other. When I moved to Scotland I was 15 years old, and as the years passed people made few if any remarks concerning my background or my supposed foreignness. It was only in the years leading up to Brexit that suddenly I became foreign again, and not only foreign, but a recently arrived foreigner. People ranging from passersby to work colleagues have made assumptions and asked questions that belied the fact that they thought I had just come to Scotland, and were always surprised or shocked to discover I had been here for what is now close to two decades. “But culturally, you are still American.”, they’d say.
Having said all of this, I experience an interesting almost reversal when I travel back to the EU or to other parts of the world. Suddenly, my skin colour comes first and THEN my accent. People, including those in official positions, assume I come, very recently, from an African country related to that European country’s colonial history. When I begin to speak in English, sometimes I see a change in demeanour. It can be a relaxing of muscles, a change in tone, a look. Once it took the form of the person I was speaking to suddenly becoming friendlier. It is almost as if to say their relief is embedded in the fact that I am not a source of guilt or discomfort for them, but for someone else. In the Middle East it is much more direct; people do not believe people who are brown come from anywhere but the African continent (and according Channel 4, Richard Spencer of US alt-right fame agrees). This has been the topic of many a fight with taxi drivers, both for myself and other friends. In recent years people have come to acknowledge that brown people (I refer to myself as brown rather than black for a list of reasons that could make for another paper) can come from other countries, but they must still be ‘originally African’ (which I find fascinating given the existence of Papua New Guinea and Australia). This idea that people who look like me can only be African is spreading despite the fact that we all know by now that identity has never been straight forward (not to mention what history has to say about this).
Ok let’s move on to Foucault. Everyone loves that guy right? He basically uses truth and the act of confession to argue that understanding who you are is just the beginning of a process of bringing who you are under control. Once a person is understood they can be categorised, and once they are categorised they can be put to use by the state. This is the essence of Technologies of the Self (and many of his other works), and one can see it reflected back in such things as forms, identity cards, and the way people interact. Returning to what I had said, once people hear my accent they interact with me on the basis of what they know about the US and what ‘Americans’ are supposed to be like, or if I am in for example the Middle East, people treat me the way they would an African. I cease to be relatable in some ways, and become ‘one of them’, an ‘Other’. The category, as a function of control, also allows for the divisions of people who could very easily find common ground. Divisions reinforce conflict, and conflict perpetuates inequality. To break that down, people use information about themselves and others to break people down into rough categories associated with things like gender, religion, and association to parts of the world based on skin colour. More recently, this has been operationalised by governments to identify people who are likely to be terrorists or refugees for example. This works because differences are highlighted, and people begin to believe in the rhetoric. They tell themselves “Of course that person is a terrorist/refugee. They are not like us.” or “They can’t be from here, they are so different.”
This attitude has deep roots, and as a recent article in the Guardian has demonstrated, can be connected to the colonialist and imperialist history of the UK Europe and to some extent the US. Pankaj Mishra describes in the article ‘How Colonial Violence Came Home: The Ugly Truth of the First World War’ how engrained in the popular psyche the idea of colonised peoples as inferior was, and how this was directly tied to the idea of the survival and expansion of Western countries. This is an idea that was not dismantled with the empire (and many would argue the empire has not been dismantled), allowing for a resurgence in the ideas of the right parties of various EU countries. To be clear again, I am not attacking the feeling of national pride and identity associated with a geographical area and the customs that have arisen in that bounded space, but I take issue with the violent hate of the supposed ‘Other’ that accompanies it. This is especially important as the world has an extremely long history of travelling peoples, a history which is not taught, and is left to people such as Pankaj Mishra and Robbie Aitken and Eve Rosenhaft to remind us, often on painful terms. So my question to all of us is this: can we not be nationalistic without the negative aggression? Does the complexity of identity, even within a given country, not make it futile to construct who you are on the basis of who you are not?
Reading List
Mishra, Pankaj, 2017. ‘How Colonial Violence Came Home: The Ugly Truth of the First World War’, The Guardian, https://www.theguardian.com/news/2017/nov/10/how-colonial-violence-came-home-the-ugly-truth-of-the-first-world-war?CMP=share_btn_fb
Aitken, R & Rosenhaft, 2014. ‘Black Germany: The Making and Unmaking of a Diaspora Community, 1884 – 1960’ Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Al Jazeera, 2014. ‘Black France: A Three Part Series Looking at the History of France’s Black Community and their Long Struggle for Recognition’, http://www.aljazeera.com/programmes/specialseries/2013/08/201382894144265709.html
I appreciated many things about Egyptian mythology. What I loved most was that the Earth wasn’t a woman. No need to cringe over the treatment of the great mother, raping her of resources, or the fracking of her crust. Geb, Father Earth, completed the cosmos where he met the sky.
To be clear, I appreciate the beauty of a benevolent Earth mother, a resplendent Gaia in pagan Spring. Humanity tends to feminize all things with a womb and use it without regard for consequences. The problem here is not metaphor, it’s that what we own, use and inhabit is somehow automatically feminine. What we use or own is often, also, abused.
Once land and people started to hold monetary value they often became resources. Wealth, class and race divided people into workforce and landowners. In The Ascent of Woman Dr. Amanda Foreman notes the Code of Hammurabi was the first time that humanity defined women's limitations. Empires and households traded women for being able to produce more human capital. The only advantage to being a wealthy womb was a life of leisure as you despaired over the production of a male heir. The poor wombs not only had to produce enough humans to work the land, but also labor of their own to worry over. In either case, society tied women’s value to domesticity, birth or sex.
There’s a twisted symmetry to it. Outside of their ability to produce, resources have little value. Consequences to the resources themselves are only considered when they affect others. Consider how de/regulation follows a high death toll or the halt of a production line. It matters little if resources are sickly, as long as they can still make more. Endanger that and owners will make changes. Human greed or neglect is rarely to blame for dwindling resources. In fact, scarcity often leads to a greater control over any given resource. If there is only so much crude oil left, might as well make the most profit from what remains. It’s so much more valuable when it’s rare, after all.
A resource doesn’t have the ability to offer consent. Women themselves choosing when not to give birth is a political hotbed in every country. Women become lobbyists, activists or politicians and raise their voices. Yet congresses and parliaments ignore them as if they had no voice. Women and the Earth are useful in their bounty and wasteful unless they produce value.
It’s disturbing how humanity resorts to exploitation, and not only of the women of the Earth. All is insubstantial to the power of profit and woe to those who are essentially, valuable. Money can raise lobbies, think tanks, campaigns, and court rulings to protect profit. It is lawful for the Earth, women, LGBTIQ persons, people of color, the poor, and others to be resources. Global climate, economic and human rights agreements are attempts to curb centuries of abuse. A global wealthy white minority continues to reinforce and support these practices.
Harassment is on the international stage these days. It’s the everyday act of exerting power over someone who is vulnerable. They are not always women, but it is the women that humanity somehow finds the most difficult to believe. There are many countries where a woman's word is suspect, but the idea alone is devastating. How often is one accusation of harassment or rape enough? How many wealthy celebrities did it take to take down a Weinstein? Wealth, once again, does not protect those who have wombs. It was Alianza Nacional de Campesinas who sounded the weariest support. Farmworkers are no stranger to exploitation and harassment:
“We do not work under bright stage lights or on the big screen. We work in the shadows of society in isolated fields and packinghouses that are out of sight and out of mind for most people in this country. Your job feeds souls, fills hearts and spreads joy. Our job nourishes the nation with the fruits, vegetables and other crops that we plant, pick and pack.
The kind of thinking that leads to exploitation has consequences. Where and to whom we assign profit and value is racist and gendered. Worst of all, those who suffer from scarcity and abuse often disappear. Disaster favors the prepared and very few of us have the wealth or the insurance to recover from it. We dismiss those we lose to starvation and death in Appalachia, Sudan or Yemen. It’s always the strong that survive, isn’t it?
Reckless development as misogyny is more pernicious. The Earth is lying there, daring to be plentiful and lush. Drill baby, drill. Rape analogies for the Earth should make corporate development horrifying, but they don't. Horrifying because rape is horrifying. Horrifying because it drives people from their homes. Horrifying because it floods land and sea in toxic crude oil. Horrifying because it affects us all, gendered or not.
The earth is a celestial body. It possesses no gender, has no need to perform a societal role. It simply is. Humans still can’t seem to move beyond societal roles even if they shift over time. It has not benefitted more than half of humanity to be only as valuable as what they produce between their legs. It has not benefitted the earth to be only as valuable as its ability to sustain humanity. Identity and how we treat one another should no longer depend on biology or gender. There are ancient, systemic problems with how we value gender and production. We cannot solve equality or poverty overnight. So, I have a simple request to start the process: reconsider how you decide what or who is valuable. We can’t ask the earth how it would prefer we see it, but we can certainly ask one another.
Autori: Valer Simion Cosma Cercetător la Centrul de Cercetare în Umanistică HAS, Institutul de Etnografie, Budapesta (Ungaria) Centrul pentru studierea modernității și a lumii rurale
Ágota Ábrán Doctorand la Universitatea din Aberdeen, Scoția, Departamentul de antropologie socială Centrul pentru studierea modernității și a lumii rurale
Când Valer a intrat în liceu în 2000, a prins încă vechile manuale, modificate la începutul epocii post-socialiste, primii ani a manualelor alternative și schimbările de abordare determinate de negocierile de aderare la NATO și Uniunea Europeană. Se ieșea lent din paradigma izolaționistă, a cetății veșnic asediată și hăituită de vecini lacomi – în special maghiarii și turcii – a provinciilor românești ca bastion al creștinătății în fața invaziei musulmane și a istoriei construită în jurul idealului „de veacuri” al unirii tuturor românilor într-un singur stat, pentru a se preda o istorie în care aspirația spre unitate era dublată de idealul europenizării României. Brusc, faptele de vitejie ale unor vajnici apărători ai ortodoxiei și românității, precum Ștefan cel Mare (devenit și Sfânt în anii postcomunismului) erau privite în context european și dublate de înțeleptele lor acțiuni într-ale diplomației și relațiilor internaționale. În relațiile cu ungurii regelui Mathias – în continuare prezentat drept cel mai mare rege al maghiarilor, dar român la origine – începeau să iasă la suprafață alianțele și înțelegerile strategice, deși profesorii insistau în continuare asupra meciurilor cîștigate de ai noștri și a injustei prezențe și dominații asupra Transilvaniei.
Pe partea cealaltă, Ágota, care a intrat într-un liceu doar cu clase maghiare, compliment a UDMR-ului, în 2004, încă își amintește cum una dintre primele lucruri pe care le-a auzit de la profesorul ei de istorie a fost cum el trebuie să le predea versiunea oficială română a istoriei, o istorie neadevărată în opoziție cu versiunea „măreață” și adevărată maghiară. Ca o unguroaică din Ardeal aceste dezbateri de „istorie aridă” despre românii care sunt sau nu sunt descendenții dacilor și romanilor locuind în bazinul carpatic înainte de venirea triburilor maghiare în perioada cuceririlor între 800-1000 e.n., au intrat în conversații de timpuriu pentru copii, iar școala nu părea să dea nicio nuanță a unei istorii viciate de agendele naționaliste pe ambele părți. Și mai rău, în timp ce istoria din școală părea să se blocheze la recapitularea datelor de război, construirea națiunilor politice, modernitatea Europeană, și în general țările și națiunile tratate ca entități întregi și omogene, cu sape viclene ocazionale de la profesori despre uniunea din 1918, n-am învățat niciodată să apreciem complexitatea și problemele a diverselor etnicități, minorităților confesionale, diviziunilor de clasă, luptele pentru drepturi și putere. Pe măsură ce școala a aplatizat unele conflicte și diviziuni dinăuntrul țării și a scos în evidență altele, orientându-se spre o imagine a României într-o evoluție lineară spre civilizație și progres occidental, în postul acesta ne confruntăm cu câteva subiecte care au fost omise din curriculum și consecințele lor distructive.
Țărani contra națiuni
O istorie axată pe diferitele agende a construirii națiunii a ratat astfel problemele produse de diferențele de clasă și de economie în timp ce acestea se desfășurau lângă și se intersectau cu cele etnice. Pe de altă parte am învățat despre reformele Europene culturale și științifice, despre locul României între Orient și Occident, și cum țara a ieșit dintre aceste istorii ca un întreg, modernizarea și Europenizarea fiind sfârșitul de succes a acestei evoluții. Rareori am învățat sau am înțeles orice despre inegalitățile rigide și jocurile de putere dintre iobagi, țărani, comercianți și aristocrația. Ce sa întâmplat cu răscoalele țărănești din secolul al XV-lea din Transilvania, suprimate de nobilimea maghiară, de secui și de sași, care au format Unio Trium Nationum, în apărarea împărăției, o unire îndreptată în mod explicit împotriva țărănimii? Prin urmare, a exclus din participarea politică țărănimea predominant de limbă română, creștin ortodoxă. Nici nu am contemplat locul țărilor românești în Europa în nici un fel decât prin lupta împotriva Imperiului Otoman și lupta pentru europenizare. Cu toate acestea, în 1866, după revoluțiile din 1848-1849, când compromisul sa născut între Ungaria și Imperiul Austriac, iar Transilvania anterior autonomă a fost atașat la Ungaria, Transilvania a devenit periferia dezindustrializată, producătoare de materii prime ieftine pentru terenurile centrale ungare care au văzut o industrializare rapidă, Transilvania astfel devenind dependent de capitalul străin. În același timp, a apărut o diferență radicală între un Vest industrializat rapid și Europa de Est în principal agrară, explicată de istorici sociali, prin conceptul de „a doua iobăgie”. Industrializarea și creșterea populației pe tot cuprinsul Europei au sporit cererea pentru culturile de cereale, în timp ce în Europa de Vest terenul rezervate pentru astfel de culturi au scăzut. Privind spre Europa Centrală și de Est pentru producția alimentară, țările Europei Occidentale au creat cererea de producție agricolă ca marfă pe o piață mondială, mai degrabă decât pentru o economie de subzistență. Această economie capitalistă a creat spațiul pentru proprietarii de mari pământuri din Europa Centrală și de Est, să leagă țăranii de pământ, reducând drepturile la proprietate și libera circulație. Acest fenomen de a doua iobăgie astfel a apărut pentru prima dată în partea estică a teritoriilor dominate de Germania, la mijlocul secolului al XV-lea, apoi sa răspândit în Polonia, Boemia, Moravia și Ungaria în cea de-a XVI-a parte a Austriei în cea de-a XVII-a și în cele din urmă Rusia țaristă, Țara Românească și Moldova în secolele al XVIII-lea și al XIX-lea.
Dacă în anii comunismului, mai ales în faza naționalistă din ultimele două decenii, unitatea de cuget și simțiri a neamului se construia oarecum în continuare în jurul unui fel de luptă de clasă între țărănimea (mai apoi se va adăuga și proletariatul) aflată într-o alianță cu voievozi animați de profunde idealuri patriotice și boierimea lacomă, mereu dispusă la trădare și interesată doar să-și prezerve și multiplice privilegiile, indiferent cărei puteri vecine ar închina țara, în epoca următoare lupta de clasă devine un subiect tabu, o aberație marxistă impusă în anii în care comunismul impus din afară a căutat să falsifice istoria. Boierimea revine treptat în prim-plan, alături de Ortodoxie, de asemenea element-cheie în circumscrierea ADN-ului național și pavăză a identității naționale în fața succesivelor valuri de deznaționalizare (a se citi maghiarizare și a se avea în vedere în special cazul românilor ardeleni). Mai apoi se face loc și greco-catolicilor și a rolului acestora în procesul de construire a națiunii moderne, descris multă vreme ca proces de „redeșteptare a conștiinței naționale” și re-cuplare a românilor la Europa. Clasa nu are loc în această narativă, nici în privința descrierilor raporturilor interne ale comunităților românești, nici în descrierea raporturilor inter-etnice din lumea transilvăneană. Românii - majoritar țărani - atunci cînd nu se lasă maghiarizați și nu-și leapădă credința strămoșească (ortodoxă, desigur), cum s-a întîmplat cu familiile nobiliare românești în evul mediu, sunt exploatați fără milă și supuși unor constante hăituieli identitare și religioase. Cînd nu este ocultat rolul maghiarilor în impunerea limbii române în slujirea bisericească și în apariția primelor traduceri de texte sfinte și bisericești în limba română (în contextul reformei protestante), acest aspect este menționat ca o manevră parșivă, anti-ortodoxă și, implicit, anti-românească.
Europenizare: civilizarea României
Dorința de apartenență la lumea civilizată, întruchipată de Europa Occidentală, reprezintă coordonata principală pe care s-a structurat procesul de nation-building în cazul românilor, încă de la finele secolului al XVIII-lea. Idealul unei națiuni europene, a „intrării în Europa” sau al probării europenității noastre rămîne o obsesie a mediului politic, cultural și civic autohton inclusiv în zilele noastre. Această descoperire a europenității/cuplare la civilizația occidentală a presupus desprinderea de Orientul în care am fost ținuți de ocupația otomană vreme de secole, conform narativei standard, iar această schimbare e prezentată ca derulîndu-se pe două mari coordonate. Pe de o parte este evidențiată importanța cărturturarilor români iluminiști din Transilvania habsburgică grupați de posteritate sub numele de Școala Ardeleană. Contribuția lor la latinizarea limbii române, la apariția primelor dicționare și scrieri istorice care să pună în lumină latinitatea românilor este legată de înființarea bisericii greco-catolice și de înființarea primelor instituții de învățămînt superior pentru români. A doua coordonată, dinspre Principate, evidențiază rolul primelor generații de boieri școliți în Occident, în special în Franța, care au determinat o serie de schimbări ireverersibile în societatea românească. Bonjuriștii, cum ironic au fost denumiți în epocă, ar fi cei care ar fi impus franțuzirea limbii române și o serie de schimbări de vestimentație și moravuri, după moda occidentală. Din această narativă lipsește ceva esențial. Deși rolul „bonjuriștilor” nu este deloc neglijabil, se omite sau în cel mai bun caz se minimalizează rolul rușilor în acest proces. În timpul perioadelor de ocupație și protectorat rusesc din ultimele decenii ale secolului al XVIII-lea și prima jumătate a secolului următor, limba și literatura franceză, alături de moda occidentală și mai apoi de coduri de legi de inspirație franceză au fost aduse în cele două principate, rușii percepîndu-se pe sine ca reprezentanți ai civilizației europene civilizînd un teritoriu dominat de moravuri și mode asiatice. Cu toate acestea, după revoluția 1989 în relatările istorice a europenizării influențele rusești au scăzut din favoare, la fel ca orice influențe orientale.
Când România nu a fost victimă, ci vinovată: etniiPrins între narații naționaliste și a modernizării europene, istoria României a ratat și includerea în ea însăși a istoriilor altor etnii. De exemplu, în 1919, 28% dintre cetățenii din întreaga țară aparțineau unor grupuri etnice diferite, iar în recensământul din 2011, 11% dintre cetățeni s-au declarat de altă origine etnică decât românii, dintre care 3,3% s-au declarat a fi romi (deși unii refuză să-și declare etnia sau se declară etnici români). Ceea ce este izbitor în această situație este faptul că am eliminat în mare măsură cetățenii romi din viziunile noastre despre istoria țării. În special în lumina faptului că, până la mijlocul secolului al XIX-lea, în Țara Românească și în Moldova, romii erau sclavi ai mănăstirilor, nobililor și regelui. În Transilvania, în mod similar, unii romi trăiau în condiții de sclavie, în timp ce alții erau „iobagi regali” dependenți de rege, deși aveau un statut etnic autonom și trăiau sub autoritatea voievozilor lor. Un film lansat în 2015, intitulat Aferim!, regizat de Radu Jude, povestește despre un polițist din Țara Românească din secolul al XIX-lea care e angajat să găsească un sclav rom fugar. Antropologul Vintilă Mihăilescu analizează cum la una dintre proiecțiile filmului, în discuția ulterioară, cineva și-a exprimat sentimentul că filmul este oarecum "exotic". Exotic, el consideră, pentru că există ceva nevăzut sau inexistent în imaginea națiunii: romii ca parte a istoriei națiunii.
[embed]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mmTYOY_jQWc[/embed]
Exotic și pentru că narativa uzuală e despre cum românii au fost exploatați de alții, nu și despre exploatarea altora de către români. Asumarea trecutului sclavagist al societății românești, alături de recuperarea critică a puseelor antisemite de la final de secol XIX și început de secol XX, nu dă bine la mitul cu românii pașnici și toleranți, care i-au primit omenește pe toți „străinii” și care n-au atacat niciodată pe nimeni, dar este necesară. Tot la categoria minorități invizibile sau prea puțin vizibile intră bulgarii și turco-tătarii, mai ales că istoria acestora reflectă ambițiile expansioniste ale tînărului regat român proaspăt ieșit de sub dominația Imperiului Otoman, precum și tragedia reprezentată de schimburile de populații practicate în prima jumătate a secolului al XX din dorința de omogenizare a națiunilor balcanice. În 1994, regizorul român Lucian Pintilie lansa filmul „O vară de neuitat”, ecranizare a unei nuvele din volumul Cronică de Familie (1957) de Petru Dumitriu, despre ocupația românească asupra teritorilor bulgărești (Cadrilaterul) cucerite în 1913, acțiunile represive ale administrației românești și rezistența populației ocupate. Teritoriu locuit în principal de turci și tătari, la care se alătură comunități de bulgari, găgăuzi, greci și români (urmași sedentarizați ai păstorilor mocani), Cadrilaterul este colonizat cu români din Timocul Bulgăresc, aromâni și alte populații românești din Balcani, ponderea populației române crescînd semnificativ (de la 2.3% în 1910 la 26.2% în 1940), însă fără a depăși procentul populației bulgărești (37.8% în 1940) sau turcești (36.1% în 1940).
[embed]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nkIO8tHfAbU[/embed]
Este obișnuit, cel puțin în sălile de clasă, să susținem că istoria este importantă pentru a învăța din ea. Cu toate acestea, cum ar trebui să învățăm dintr-o istorie la care ne uităm prin lentilele colorate roz ale națiunilor noastre? Istoria pe care am învățat-o în școală a omogenizat națiunile și a aplatizat distincțiile economice, în timp ce a redus diversitățile etnice. În aceeași timp ea a oferit un discurs de modernizare și europenizare, care a eliminat din nou rețelele de putere economice dintre țări și clase. Suntem conștienți de faptul că numeroasele exemple periculoase despre relatările istorice prea simplificate nu pot fi rezumate într-un post atât de scurt. Aiciam vrut să evidențiem modul în care istoria pe care o învățăm în școală nu are doar un scop particular dar e ș dăunătoare. Creează ostilitate între oameni fără a da explicații reale despre istoricitatea stării actuale, astfel creând populații invizibile din punct de vedere istoric și denigrați din punct de vedere social.
Resurse
Achim, Viorel. Țiganii În Istoria României. București: Editura Enciclopedică, 1998.
Boatcă, Manuela. “Peripheral Solutions to Peripheral Development: The Case of Early 20th Century Romania.” Journal of World-Systems Research XI, no. I (July 2005): 3–26.
Boatcă, Manuela. “Second Slavery vs. Second Serfdom: Local Labor Regimes of the Global Periphery.” In Social Theory and Regional Studies in the Global Age, edited by Said Amir Arjomand, 361–88. SUNY Press, 2014.
Cosma, Valer Simion. “Obsesia Europenității. Revizitînd Începuturile Națiunii Române,” November 6, 2017. http://ligaoamenilordeculturabontideni.blogspot.com/2017/11/obsesia-europenitatii-revizitind.html.
Drace-Francis, Alex. Geneza Culturii Române Moderne. Instituţiile Scrisului Şi Dezvoltarea Identităţii Naţionale (1700-1900). Translated by Marius-Adrian Hazaparu. Iași: Poliron, 2016[1988].
Kligman, Gail, and Katherine Verdery. Peasants under Siege: The Collectivization of Romanian Agriculture, 1949-1962. Princeton University Press, 2011.
Kürti, László. “Transylvania, Land beyond Reason: Toward an Anthropological Analysis of a Contested Terrain.” Dialectical Anthropology 14, no. 1 (March 1, 1989): 21–52.
Scurtu, I. “Minorități Naționale Din România În Anii 1918-1925.” In Minorități Naționale Din România 1918-1925. Documente, edited by I. Scurtu and L. Boar, 7–14. București: Arhivele Statului din România, 1995.
Stahl, Henri H. Traditional Romanian Village Communities: The Transition from the Communal to the Capitalist Mode of Production in the Danube Region. Cambridge University Press, 1980.
Verdery, Katherine. Transylvanian Villagers: Three Centuries of Political, Economic, and Ethnic Change. University of California Press, 1983.
Authors: Valer Simion Cosma Researcher at HAS Research Centre for the Humanities, Institute of Ethnography in Budapest (Hungary) Center for the Study of Modernity and the Rural World
Ágota Ábrán PhD student at the University of Aberdeen, Scotland, Department of Social Anthropology Center for the Study of Modernity and the Rural World
Valer started high-school in the year 2000 so he caught the old textbooks that were modified at the beginning of the post-socialist era. These were the first years of the alternative textbooks and the changes mirrored attitudes determined by the adherence negotiations to NATO and the European Union. Slowly, Romania was exiting the isolationist paradigm that saw the country as a fortress forever besieged and haunted by its greedy neighbours, especially the Hungarians and the Turks. School expanded our vision of the country as a bastion of Christianity opposing the Muslim invasions, in a history constructed around the century old ideal of the unification of all Romanians into a single state, with the ideal of Romania’s Europeanisation. Suddenly, the heroic deeds of the great defenders of Orthodoxy and Romanianity, such as Stephen the Great – Ștefan cel Mare, voivode of Moldavia from 1457 to 1504, who also became Saint in the years of post-communism – have been envisioned in the European context. This vision amplified their role as wise diplomats with ingenuity in international relations. History classes started to present even the Hungarian king Mathias – king between 1458–1490, portrayed as the greatest Hungarian king, but of Romanian origin –through his newly re-surfaced alliances and strategic agreements. Meanwhile, the professors still insisted on such diplomatic matches won by the Romanians while emphasising the injustice of the Hungarian presence and dominance over Transylvania.
On the other side, Ágota, who started an all Hungarian high-school in 2004 in Transylvania, ‘compliments’ of the Democratic Alliance of Hungarians in Romania party, still remembers one of the first things she was told by her history professor. He went into a tangent about how he had to teach them the official Romanian version of history, an untrue version as opposed to the ‘oh so mighty’ true Hungarian version. As a Hungarian speaker from Transylvania such ‘barren historical’ debates about whether Romanians were the descendants of the Daco-Roman populations living in the area before the Hungarian tribes arrived in the Carpathian Basin during the period of Conquests (roughly 800-1000 AD) entered conversations early on for children. School did not seem to give any nuance to a history tainted by nationalistic agendas on both sides. Worse still, we never learned to appreciate the diverse complexities and issues of the different ethnic, confessional, and class divides, struggles for rights and power. History in school seemed to get stuck at recapitulating dates of wars, understanding political nation building, European modernity, and generally treated the country and nation as a whole. This was infused with the occasional sly dig from the professors at whether it was a cause for celebration or mourning when Transylvania became part of the Romanian Kingdom in 1918.As school flattened out some conflicts and divides inside the Romanian countries while emphasising others, and aimed at painting Romania in a linear evolution towards Western civilisation and progress, in this post we grapple with some topics that were omitted from our curriculum and their destructive consequences.
Peasants versus nations
A history focused on different nation building agendas missed the issues produced by class and economic divides as they ran along or intersected ethnic ones. On the contrary, we have learned about the European cultural and scientific reforms, or Romania’s place between the Orient and the Occident, the country emerging from these stories as a whole. In these stories modernisation and Europeanisation became the final and successful end to its evolution. We have seldom learned or understood anything about the stark inequalities and power plays between serfs, peasants, traders, and the aristocracy. What about the peasant rebellions of the 15th century in Transylvania, suppressed by the Hungarian nobility, the Seklers and the Saxons, who formed the UnioTriumNationum, in defence of the kingdom, a Union directed explicitly against the peasantry? This UnioTriumNationum also excluded the mainly Romanian speaking Orthodox Christian peasantry from political participation. Nor did we ever contemplate the place of the Romanian countries in Europe in any other way than fighting the Ottoman Empire and striving for Europeanisation. Yet, when in 1866, after the revolutions of 1848-1849, the Compromise was born between the Hungarian and Austrian Empire, and the formerly autonomous Transylvania was attached to Hungary. Transylvania became the deindustrialised periphery producing cheap raw material for the rapidly industrializing Hungarian mainland, becoming heavily dependent on foreign capital.At the same time, a stark difference emerged between a rapidly industrialising Western and a mainly agrarian Eastern Europe, explained by social historians, through the concept of ‘second serfdom’. Industrialisation and population growth throughout Europe increased the demand for cereal crops, while decreased land available in Western Europe for such cultivations. Looking towards East Central Europe for food production, Western European countries created the demand for agricultural production as a merchandise on a global market, rather than for a subsistence economy. This capitalist economy created the space for large landowners in East Central Europe to tie peasants to land, decreasing rights to property and free movement. This phenomenon of second serfdom, thus, first occurred in the Eastern part of German-dominated territories, in the middle of the 15th century, then spread to Poland, Bohemia, Moravian and Hungary in the 16th, parts of Austria in the 17th and finally Tsarist Russia, Wallachia and Moldavia in the 18th and 19th century.
In the years of communism, especially in its nationalistic phase of the last two decades, historical accounts in school built on a kind of class struggle and meant to unite the nation’s mind and feelings. This struggle presented itself between the peasantry – and later on the proletariat – who found themselves in an alliance with the voivodes animated by profound patriotic ideals, on one side, struggling against the greedy boyars, on the other. The boyars, thus were forever part of betrayals and only interested in preserving and multiplying their privileges in alliance with no matter which neighbouring power subdued the country. However, after the fall of communism class struggle became a taboo subject, seen as a Marxist aberration through which communism imposed from outside sought to falsify history. The role of the boyars as a civilising force started to come to the forefront. Both the boyars and Orthodoxy became a key element of circumscribing the national DNA, shielding the national identity against successive denationalising waves – read: the threat of becoming Hungarian for the Transylvanian Romanians. Later, the Greek Catholic Church entered historical accounts by emphasising their role in the process of constructing a modern nation. For a long time, this was described as the ‘revival of the nation’s consciousness’ and the re-attachment of the Romanians to Europe. Class did not have space in this narrative, therefore, the internal struggles between the Romanian communities and the inter-ethnic relations of the Transylvanian realities were mitigated. For instance, the merciless exploitation and constant identity and religious harassment of the majority peasant Romanians who resisted becoming Hungarian and did not deny their ancestral faith, Orthodoxy in favour of Greek Catholicism – as happened to the Romanian noble families in the Middle Ages – was played down. On the other hand, the role of Hungarians in the imposition of the Romanian language in the church ministry and in the first translated holy and church texts into Romanian (in the context of the Protestant reform) is not obscured. It is mentioned in a tendentious, anti-Orthodox, and explicitly, anti-Romanian manner. Consequently, Romania became ever homogenised in terms of class yet built on the idea of a single nation that belongs to Europe.
Europeanisation: civilising Romania
The desire to belong to the civilised world, embodied by Western Europe, was the support around which the nation-building process was structured in the case of Romanians, even as far as the end of the 18th century. The ideal of a European nation, of ‘entering Europe’ or the trial of our Europeanity remains an obsession in the political, cultural, and civic sphere. This ‘discovery’ of Europeanity aimed at legitimising Romania’s union with the Occident and implied the detachment from the East in which we have been held by the Ottoman occupation for centuries, according to the standard historical narrative. This change was presented through two arguments. The first was the increasing emphasis in historical accounts on the ‘civilising’ effort of the Romanian Enlightenment scholars from Habsburg Transylvania, labelled by posterity the Transylvanian School. Their contribution to the Latinization of the Romanian language, to the appearance of the first dictionaries and historical writings were used to highlight the Latin roots of Romanians. This was also linked to the establishment of the Greek Catholic Church and the first higher education institutions in Romania. The second, coming from the Romanian Principalities, emphasised the role of the first generation of boyars schooled in the Occident, especially in France, as causing a series of irreversible changes in Romanian society. The Bonjourists, as they were ironically named at the time (from the French bon jour), were those who imposed French on the Romanian language, as well as a series of changes in clothing and manners, according to the Western fashion. However, all these narratives lack something essential. Although the role of the ‘Bonjourists’ is not negligible, the role of the Russians in this process is played down at best and totally neglected at worst. During the periods of Russian occupation and protectorate in the last decades of the 18th century and first half of the 19th century, French literature and language, together with Western fashion and later French inspired codes of law were brought into the two Romanian Principalities through the Russians. The Russians perceived themselves as the representatives of European civilisation, and thus civilising a territory dominated by Asian manners and fashions. After the 1989 revolution, however, Russian as much as other Oriental influences fell out of favour in historical accounts of Europeanisation.
When Romania was not a victim but a culprit: ethnicities
Caught between narratives of nationalism and European modernisation, the history of Romania missed the inclusion of other ethnic histories. For instance, in 1919, 28% of the citizens of the whole of Romania belonged to different ethnic groups, and in the census of 2011, 11% of the citizens declared themselves of other ethnic background than Romanian, 3.3% declaring themselves to be Roma – there are suggestions that some refused to declare their ethnic background or declare themselves Romanian ethnic. What is striking in this situation is that Roma citizens have been often erased from visions of the country’s history. Striking especially in the light that until the middle of the 19th century in Wallachia and Moldova, Roma were slaves of monasteries, noblemen, and the king. In Transylvania, similarly, some Roma lived in conditions of slavery, while others were ‘royal serfs’ dependent on the king, although they had an autonomous ethnic status living under the authority of their ‘voivodes’. A movie released in 2015, entitled Aferim!, directed by Radu Jude, tells the story of a policeman in 19th century Wallachia hired to find a runaway Roma slave. The anthropologist Vintilă Mihăilescu, analyses how at one film screening a viewer later described the film as ‘exotic’. Exotic, because the film had something unseen, or non-existent in the nation’s imagery: Roma as part of the history of the nation.[i]
[embed]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mmTYOY_jQWc[/embed]
Exotic also, because the usual historical narrative sees Romanians as having been exploited by others, not Romanians acting as the exploiter. Assuming slavery as part of the past of the Romanian society, together with the critical recovery of the anti-semitic attacks from the end of the 19th and the beginning of the 20th century, it does not fit well within the myth of the peaceful and tolerant Romanians, who have humanely received all ‘foreigners’ and who never attacked anyone. In the category of invisible or less visible minorities also come the Bulgarians and Turkish-Tatars, as their history reflects the expansionary ambitions of the young Romanian kingdom that emerged from the rule of the Ottoman Empire, as well as the population exchange practiced in the first half of the 20th century out of the desire to homogenise the Balkan nations. In 1994, Romanian director Lucian Pintilie released the film ‘An Unforgettable Summer’, after a short-story from the volume ‘Family Chronicle’ by Petru Dumitriu. It related the Romanian occupation of the Bulgarian territories (the Cadrilater) —conquered in 1913 — the repressive actions of the Romanian administration, and the resistance of the occupied population. A territory inhabited mostly by Turks and Tatars, joined by Bulgarian, Gagauz, Greek and Romanian (sedentary descendants of mountain shepherds) communities, the Cadrilater was colonised by Romanians from the Bulgarion Timok. With Aromanians, and other Romanian populations from the Balkans, the share of the Romanian population increasing significantly (from 2.3% in 1910 to 26.2% in 1940), but without exceeding the percentage of the Bulgarian population (37.8% in 1940) or Turkish (36.1% in 1940).
[embed]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nkIO8tHfAbU[/embed]
It is common, at least in classrooms, to argue that history is important in order to learn from it. Yet, how are we to learn from history if we are looking at it through the rose-tinted lenses of our respective nations? The history that school taught us homogenised nations and flattened out economic distinctions, while downplaying ethnic diversity. It also catered to a modernisation and Europeanisation discourse that again erased the economic power-networks between countries and classes. We are aware that the examples of dangerously over-simplified historical accounts cannot be summarised in such a short post. Here, we wanted to highlight how the history we are taught in school does not only have an agenda, but is harmful. It sets people against each other without giving real explanations about how our society came to be, creating historically invisible yet socially denigrated people.
Suggested readings:
Achim, Viorel. Țiganii În IstoriaRomâniei. București: Editura Enciclopedică, 1998.
Boatcă, Manuela. “Peripheral Solutions to Peripheral Development: The Case of Early 20th Century Romania.” Journal of World-Systems Research XI, no. I (July 2005): 3–26.
Boatcă, Manuela. “Second Slavery vs. Second Serfdom: Local Labor Regimes of the Global Periphery.” In Social Theory and Regional Studies in the Global Age, edited by Said Amir Arjomand, 361–88. SUNY Press, 2014.
Cosma, Valer Simion. “Obsesia Europenității. Revizitînd Începuturile Națiunii Române,” November 6, 2017. http://ligaoamenilordeculturabontideni.blogspot.com/2017/11/obsesia-europenitatii-revizitind.html.
Drace-Francis, Alex. The Making of Modern Romanian Culture: Literacy and the Development of National Identity. Reprint edition. London: I.B.Tauris, 2013[1988].
Kligman, Gail, and Katherine Verdery. Peasants under Siege: The Collectivization of Romanian Agriculture, 1949-1962. Princeton University Press, 2011.
Kürti, László. “Transylvania, Land beyond Reason: Toward an Anthropological Analysis of a Contested Terrain.” Dialectical Anthropology 14, no. 1 (March 1, 1989): 21–52.
Scurtu, I. “MinoritățiNaționale Din RomâniaÎnAnii 1918-1925.” In Minorități Naționale Din România 1918-1925. Documente, edited by I. Scurtu and L. Boar, 7–14. București: ArhiveleStatului din România, 1995.
Stahl, Henri H. Traditional Romanian Village Communities: The Transition from the Communal to the Capitalist Mode of Production in the Danube Region. Cambridge University Press, 1980.
Verdery, Katherine. Transylvanian Villagers: Three Centuries of Political, Economic, and Ethnic Change. University of California Press, 1983.
[i]Vintilă Mihăilescu, România exotică (Dilema Veche, 2015), http://dilemaveche.ro/sectiune/situa-iunea/articol/romania-exotica
We live in imbalanced worlds. We have been taught to consume, that we have rights to everything at any cost to anyone. We allow our happiness to be defined for us so that it becomes an insatiable beast. We are outwardly fixated but inwardly demanding; the beast we unleash onto the world seeks satisfaction anywhere but with its master, rendering its master powerless. It is at this point we are told we can only solve our problems by working tirelessly on ourselves, because finding happiness within yourself does not sell products, unless it’s a jade egg (thanks but no thanks, Goop). Happiness as an idea IS real and it requires work that no one can tell you how to do, but that plenty are willing to tell you that you just don’t need to do (#gratitude: ‘just be grateful for what you have and then you’ll be happy’). Happiness need not be a selfish experience at the expense of others, society, the earth, or business. This is where we need to find a balance. Happiness can be even more complete when others are included in the process. Your happiness is what you make of it and in your hands, but we live on a planet that needs to sustain you and itself alongside billions of others with whom we have to engage and it has to sustain us EQUALLY. The earth’s population continues to grow while rising temperatures make it more difficult to feed earth’s population. Structures of wealth inequality ensure that those who starve cannot afford to be fed. Most of the resources we built our civilization on will be exhausted with no guarantees that the meager remains will be shared equally. So how do we meet everyone’s needs? How do we keep going? How do we break the unhealthy cycles but keep the productive ones going? Let’s begin HERE at The Turn Left. By seeking an alternate path, by reminding ourselves that we are interconnected on this planet and rely on each other to survive. Let’s begin to theorize and plan for an all inclusive future.
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In cooperation with contributors to the website, The Turn Left members will seek to find ways to practically implement and test the solutions theorized on the website. If the solutions do not work, we will go back to the drawing board to find out why, then repeat the process.
Once a workable and practically applicable solution is realized, we will collaborate with larger organizations, companies and groups, creating networks and pathways towards eventually implementing these solutions and associated practices on a global scale.
We understand the implications one might draw from the name we have chosen for ourselves. It is not an indicator of left leanings per se, but more to do with the choice to seek something different from what exists already, an alternate path. We do not seek to overwrite already existing cultural beliefs or usurp political structures. The ultimate goal is for all of us to coexist on this earth in a mutually beneficial manner.
© The Turn Left 2020
