4 posts tagged “feminism”
It was a get the hell outta Dodge type weekend and Anna and I did just that. It was a lovely two days of laughter and full bellies and sand and water and good conversation and reconnection. This used to be such a common thing for she and I. There was a time when a weekend didn't go by without us spending the vast majority of it in a car off to some random location. And so, while the 9th Coachella scorched and delighted the young folks in the desert, we slightly less young folks headed in the opposite direction to Ventura and Santa Barbara looking for adventure.
"Take risks," I'd exclaim to Anna for no good reason and, we did. We took strange off ramps that led to unfamiliar locales like Santa Claus Lane. We ventured closely to a hippie-infused drum circle. We dared walk piers with no rails. Our trusty companion, Curtis the crab, tempted fate in the mouth of a whale. We nervously walked an unfamiliar path where lizards were afoot. We even stood toe to toe with red faced douche bags and lived to tell the tale.
Our greatest feat, however, may have been simply being two people of color in communities of seemingly endless waves of white people.
I say this with tongue firmly in cheek but the last of the internet I saw before we left on our adventure was this twitter by the baddest chick --
Which led me to the brewing controversy around Seal Press's latest publication, It’s a Jungle Out There: The Feminist Survival Guide to Politically Inhospitable Environments, and the illustrations that hide within. Now, to be clear, I'm not offended by the imagery. As I get older, I find very little truly offends me. It's wrong-headed, sure. It's insensitive, of course. It shows that Seal Press is courting a certain audience -- white feminists -- and really ain't thinking about nobody else? Yup, sure does. But offensive? Nah. Just bad business. I'll take a cue from WOC PHD and just refrain from purchasing anymore of their books until they get their house in order even if that means I won't be able to support in cash money people I know, enjoy, respect, and admire.Heart-broken: http://tinyurl.com/5egpso
I tell you all this to give you insight into where my head was as we made our excursion to seemingly lighter pastures. In Downtown Ventura, we stopped for lunch at a cafe with a wonderful view of Main Street. Anna and I quickly noticed that the few brown people we did see were working as wait staff and not out enjoying the gorgeous day with the rest of the community. We went nearly 20 minutes watching dozens of people walk in front of us. Pigmentation was low. It became a game. I saw a gentleman darker than me across the street and pointed him out excitedly. And at that moment, as if we were on The Truman Show and Christof had yelled, "cue the coloreds," an Asian woman and a Latino couple crossed paths in front of us at the same time.
We cracked up.
As we walked through downtown after lunch and then made our way up to Santa Barbara, we began to notice how few people "who looked like us" we saw. It was as if we were explorers in a strange land. The primarily white drum circle became a local ritual of the natives that we didn't quite understand. The beach and ocean became the exotic "nexus of nature" where these "savages" must come to lay blessings to their gods. Obviously, a primitive sand sculpture was some kind of totem showcasing the complexities of their archaic mythologies. We remarked on how stoners greeted each other in the street (they introduce themselves at the end of the conversation instead of the beginning and smell of odd oils. Anna claims it is called "patchouli" but that is such a ridiculous word that I believe she is pulling my leg.)
We even saw a Douche Bag (a particularly interesting tribe) get caught in the middle of the street with oncoming traffic in both directions.
Such an amazing sight it was!
On our way home, we discussed turning our adventure as explorers in the strange wilderness of the white man into a video or film, wondering if anyone would get the joke and the social commentary therein.
If they work for Seal Press, probably not.
Current music: Yerba Buena – Colonial Mentality
To say you're not a feminist is virtually the same thing as saying you're a racist.
- Christie Hefner in this month's GOOD Magazine (which is chock full of GOOD stuff, obvs.)
I kid. Sort of.
I'm struggling with what I want to say about this book. You don't need me to tell you it's a spectacular piece of writing. It is feminist canon for a reason. It is also, perhaps, one of the most brilliant recollections of mental illness and depression. Plath is also witty and wry and wonderful.
Her Esther, and Plath by extension, would be a chore of a person to care about but I'd like to think I'd get her. Not that it would help anything.
[I've written and deleted a paragraph here three times. We're going to leave it deleted and start fresh.]
Suicide has been a prominent part of my life. I get those who ponder and attempt it. They call and announce their pain. They, generally, don't want to end their lives. They want help. Or to be heard. Whether doing suicide hotline in college or with friends and family in extremely hard times, those people have reached out to me.
Those who are successful at suicide...don't. They dissapear. They simply show up dead.
The two times I've felt intimately involved with someone who has committed suicide, I perceived them as intelligent and special as Esther is written. They saw the world differently. They found absurdity in what most of us consider normalcy. Their response to seemingly "normal" situations were generally so far outside expectation as to be both mesmerizing and often insufferable.
They also had incredible bouts of sadness and solitude. They came up with extreme ways to solve what they considered to be the problems of their lives and the world. They failed to get their desired changes at every turn.
And then they were gone.
I have a friend like that right now. This is her favorite book. She's the reason I read it.
And, I worry.
I wouldn't ever want to be trapped in the bell jar but it's not much easier being on the outside of it either unable to uncork it, smash it, or otherwise break free.
For the insight into what that mindset might be like alone, it is highly recommended.
For the style and skill with which Plath composes her signature work, it is a must.
This is my penance:
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AUTHOR: Jason Toney
TITLE: Bitches Ain't Shit but Hoes and Tricks: Sexism, Feminism and Denial in hip hop
STATUS: Publish
ALLOW COMMENTS: 1
CONVERT BREAKS: __default__
ALLOW PINGS: 1
CATEGORY: pop diatribe
DATE: 03/21/2004 02:38:16 PM
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BODY:
'Never lettin' ya leave, never lettin' ya go' - Amerie, Can't Let Go (All I Have)
Early in Chris Rock's Black Ambition Tour set, he jokes about his uncomfortable relationship with hip hop. Especially now that he has a daughter, he thinks more about the words. He notes, however, that women are always the people that seem to get the most amped when those misogynistic songs blare through the speakers. The lyrics could be
Stick it in her ass
Stick it in her ass
Hoes always love it
When you stick it in they ass
and what is seemingly every woman in the club saying as they grind up on their man or dance with their girls? 'That nigga ain't talkin' about me. Shiiiit. Holla!î
In LA, it's pretty much standard that you must rock something from the Snoop Dogg/Dr. Dre Chronic era in your old school set at the hip hop club. Probably the most misogynistic song on either the Doggystyle or Chronic albums is Ain't No Fun (If My Homies Can't Have None). Nate Dogg sings the smoothed out chorus over a silky 70s style soul loop on a song about passing a woman around like she was a joint.
The girls go wild. Every damn time. They laugh. They joke. They high five. 'That nigga ain't talkin' about me. Shiiiit. Wesst Side bitches. What?!î
The key women in hip hop seem to only broach the subject of this rampant sexism by suggesting their own sexual dominance. Missy Elliot's most recent hits all deal with her demands of men in the bedroom. On Ghostface Killah's Tush she says,
I really like you baby
Do you know how to wife this lady?
Give me what I want don't talk don't touch
Unless you got a bank account to make my face blush
Now shush
Eat my bush
And I can give you what you want
Make a wush
The implication being that she's as sexually aggressive as the men and, unless you've got the money to back up your bravado, you better do what she asks. That's great and all and I love a strong, sexually aware person but shouldn't women be demanding that same respect outside the bedroom? Li'l Kim and Foxy Brown have never gotten past the sex as a weapon ideology either. According to them, the only power women have is in the pussy.
Jean Grae and Ms. Dynamite aside, is the most accessible feminist voice in hip hop a man? Talib Kweli regularly broaches the subjects on his records. He consistently looks at the plight of black women in the world, if not in hip hop specifically, and rarely, if ever, makes sweeping generalizations about women in his word choice and metaphor. Is there anyone else out there challenging hip hop, challenging young black minds to consider women as something other than hoes, tricks, chickenheads, your baby's mamma, or big mamma?
Maybe it's Erykah Badu whose Worldwide Underground album might be the preamble to the future of hip hop anyway. From the outset, she has been a soul singer intricately tied to her love of hip hop. She challenges the hip hop generation to always re-evaluate what is accepted as true. On the single from Worldwide Underground, Danger, she looks at a common archetype in hip hop, the drug dealer, and showcases what the woman at home is doing while he's away or on lockdown. No hoes or tricks here just a strong woman taking similar risks as her partner whether she gets acknowledged for what she does or not.
But, perhaps, the truest commentary on where women in hip hop are takes place later on her album on the Love of My Life Worldwide remix. The guests on the track are Bahamadia, Queen Latifah, and Angie Stone - 3 powerful female MCs who haven't put out relevant commercial hip hop releases in 5, 10, and 20 years respectively.
But the ladies in the club are dancing and cheering. 'That nigga ain't talkin' 'bout me.'
Who is that nigga talking about then?
'Excuse me, miss. What's your name?'
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EXTENDED BODY:
Related:
hiphopmusic.com: Hip Hop Blogs - Blind to Gender Issues?
diesel nation: Hip Hop Hates Women
a day in a life: Black Females are Valued by No One
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EXCERPT:
That nigga ain't talkin' 'bout me. Holla!
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Bonus: Samhita sez
Double Bonus: The entirety of Beyond Beats and Rhymes on Google Video
