Delightfully Cranky

Visiting Portland!

Lisa Jervis — Thu, 24 Jul 2008 15:38:59 -0400

I'm up in Portland this week, visiting Debbie and hanging out at the Bitch office. I haven't been here in about a year, and it's amazing to see how bustling the office is—with interns and volunteers and new staffers (hi, Brian!)—while maintaining a relatively unfrenzied vibe, even though it's the middle of production on a new issue. This kind of calm, um, was never really achieved when I was working here. I'm going to try not to read anything into that.

I'm blown away by all the new projects being planned—I just had a mini brainstorming session with Amy about the lecture series, and last night we had a critical listening session on the Wired podcast and talked about where to take the next one. It's a super-exciting time for this little organization that could, and I'm incredibly proud to see how it's growing and changing. I'm also a tad nostalgic for my time on the staff. Production, as exhausting and sometimes frustrating as it could be, was also one of my favorite things: you get to see the swanky new designs, which work their typographical magic to make the text read even better, and, because I am a big geek, I think proofreading is rilly fun.

And tonight, a bunch of us are going to the awesome feminist bookstore In Other Words for a reading from the Girls Rock Camp book.

Why, oh why, does Portland have to be more than 400 miles from Oakland?

A collection of random things

Lisa Jervis — Fri, 18 Jul 2008 15:48:54 -0400

Last night I co-hosted a fundraising house party for the kick-ass feminist media organization Women in Media and News. I've been involved in the organization since its planning and launch, and am proud to be its founding board chair.

The room was full of amazing feminist activists, and you could practically feel the air buzzing with the energy from everyone's projects: About-Face, a media-literacy organization promoting positive body image; Women's Magazine, a feminist radio show on KPFA; The Heretics, a documentary about the women's art movement of the '70s; the Suppressed Histories Archive, a global women's history organization; Independent Arts and Media, which promotes and produces (natch) independent arts and media; Leaving India, a famliy memoir forthcoming in spring 2009; and a hospital-worker union organizing campaign. I'm sure there were more—these are just the ones I remember off the top of my head. Seriously. It was pretty mind-blowing.

You can stage a virtual party for yourself by checking out all the above links and then making a donation to WIMN (like how I just slipped that in there?).

On a different but related note, though I am way late to the party on this one, my new issue of the New Yorker came yesterday, so I wanted to recommend some good reading on their shockingly tone-deaf failed-satire (to put it charitably) Obama cover: Racialicious, What About Our Daughters (h/t to Anxious Black Woman), Moderate Left. Michelle Obama Watch also has a roundup.

Action update on the birth-control-as-abortion thang

Lisa Jervis — Wed, 16 Jul 2008 12:33:48 -0400

NARAL's letter-writing link is here (goes to Congress). Planned Parenthood's is here (goes to the White House).

And, courtesy of commenter softpieces on yesterday's post, Department of Health and Human Services contact info:
Secretary Mike Leavitt's office: 202-690-7000
Secretary Mike Leavitt's email: mike.leavitt@hhs.gov
Secretary Mike Leavitt's fax: 202-690-7203
Secretary Mike Leavitt's Correspondence Secretary: 202-690-6392

Have at it, y'alls.

Our government wants to define some forms of birth control as abortion

Lisa Jervis — Tue, 15 Jul 2008 16:22:50 -0400

Someone on my favorite feminist- and media-related listserv just pointed me to this article, by the ever-knowledgable Cristina Page, about a new Health and Human Services Department proposal that would define the pill, the patch, the shot, the IUD, the ring, and Plan B as abortion rather than contraception. I am no fan of hormonal methods for not breeding (had some bad experiences there...), but this is truly horrifying, and a potential huge victory for the forces that want to make some of your most important life decisions for you.

No word yet on protest actions to take, so for now, just read and be aware of the continuting scariness. And remember, this is about so much more than being able to choose if and when to have a baby: Limiting women's access to birth control restricts folks' ability to care for the chlldren they already have, keeps them in poverty, and so much more (if the pill were as hard to get as an abortion, might that force some women to "choose" sterilization when they really want a reversible method?).

Support South End Press!

Lisa Jervis — Wed, 09 Jul 2008 18:02:31 -0400

This morning in my in box was an e-mail titled, "An Open Letter to the South End Press Community." I clicked right on it, before I read my daily-headlines e-mail or the note from Debbie asking my opinion on a Very Important Matter—and even before I read the note from the boy I am currently most crushed out on. Because I am a member of their Community Supported Publishing program, which means I get a copy of every single book they publish as a thank-you for my monthly donation, and that's how much I love South End, the publisher of some of the most important political books being pubished today. Just to make sure you know.

If you're not already familiar with South End, you should get to know them right now. They are, as their letter notes, "the nation's only unapologetically radical, feminist, mission-driven, and majority women of color publishing collective." Their list is tremendous: big names like bell hooks, Vandana Shiva, and Howard Zinn, plus less well-known but no less important books from Incite!, Andrea Smith, Kristian Williams, and many more.

And they're in trouble, because Borders is in trouble, and the unfortunate thing about the publishing business is that the actual producers of actual content are generally at the mercy of retailers and distributors when it comes to our financial survival. Just like Bitch, South End is a nonprofit organization that relies on its community of readers to get how important media is to social justice and to back that understanding up with cold, hard cash.

Their open letter lays it out (for some reason, our block quotes function isn't working, so I am just using boring ol' quotation marks instead):

"Our worry about how to deal with the immediate cash crisis saps time that we would otherwise spend on publishing and promoting new books, and on trying to do our part in building a better world. For more than 30 years, we have found ways to carry on. We are committed to surviving this crisis, but we need your help to ensure that we can keep publishing new titles. The Right has strategically funded its own presses and media; the left must do the same.

This is why we're inviting you to join the CSP Movement: we can't afford to confuse independence with isolated individual efforts. South End has remained independent only because of the success of our community interdependence.

The ability of South End Press to sustain democratic movements advancing social and economic justice pivots on a community-based model. So does the fact that we manage our own labor collectively, that we work daily to invert the pernicious hierarchies of the publishing industry, that we try to create the change we hope to see in the broader world. So does the fact that we don't answer to a corporate marketing and sales department, that while we too are struggling to survive in a capitalist system our mission remains the same: to publish books we believe in, books that bring critical, radical perspectives to bear on issues that matter. None of this would be possible without the support of an entire community of readers, activists, ruminators, and dreamers."

I can't say it any better than that. Go forth and read, buy their books, sign up for their CSP program, and never forget how important independent media is to our political future.

Assorted thoughts on Pride, weddings, and capitalism

Lisa Jervis — Thu, 26 Jun 2008 15:14:06 -0400

Last night I went out to my neighborhood queer bar, the White Horse Inn, to see the East Bay Kings put on the most kick-ass drag show ever. It was not only the runup to the enormous Pride festivities in San Francisco, but also the farewell performance of Neil Down, who is seriously out-of-control fantabulous.

The mood was raucous and joyful, bolstered even more by the presence of a young couple celebrating their wedding, which had taken place earlier that day.

Now is the time to talk about my mixed feelings about gay marriage. I mean, of course I support it, since the alternative is to oppose it, which would be...wrong. But I cringe at the sheer volume of resources that have gone into fighting for marriage instead of, say, health care and other rights that should not be dependent on relationship status. Sometimes I feel churlish about that—and, as someone who did actually once use straight privilege to take advantage of the easy path to relationship legitimacy that marriage offers, more than a little hypocritical. And sometimes I find radical arguments against the support of gay marriage unrealistic; in practice, it's not like we're actually going to get a more just society for queers or other marginalized folks without an intermediate step like marriage rights. And the resources being used for the marriage fight would not be available to agitate for affordable housing, a living wage, or universal heath care; those issues have, for the most part, a different (and less wealthy) set of supporters than the marriage equality movement.

But when I read this account of California businesses preparing to extend the wedding industrial-complex to same-sex couples, the relationship between marriage, assimilation, profiteering, and consumerism was made crystal clear. The revulsion I felt upon reading about grooms shopping for "the perfect diamond" as if a hunk of compressed carbon extracted by one of world history's most damaging industries can validate a relationship, and companies poised to offer "organic framboise ganaches, Russian River honeymoon canoe trips and Gay Palm Springs hotel packages with rose petals, Champagne, [and] two souvenir pillows embroidered with the couples’ first names," made arguments like Gay Shame's newly resonant.

But being part of a crowd of baby dykes, low femmes, genderbenders, and assorted other queers cheering madly for the stylings of the Kings and also for the pair of early-20s women sitting at the side of the stage, one in a white spaghetti strap dress and the other in a dapper white suit, the issue felt even more complicated. I couldn't help but feel moved by the historic nature of the moment, and the emotional connection between social institutions and cultural acceptance within, among, and between communities. Yet another example of the kyriarchy in action (h/t to Sudy for introducing me to this term). But does rejecting the kyriarchal forces that have made marriage equality such a priority (and some would say a necessary one) mean rejecting the powerful beauty of witnessing moments like this? I hope not. But I can't say I know either way.

The Allied Media Conference, the Chevron shareholders' meeting, and a little bit of randomness

Lisa Jervis — Fri, 30 May 2008 15:52:24 -0400

So last week I tried to buy my plane tickets to the ever-awesome Allied Media Conference in Detroit, June 20-21. I was really looking forward to being in the presence of so many radical media folks, building coalitions, hearing about the work other people are doing, and just hangin' out. Unfortunately, I couldn't find a ticket under $600, so it's not going to happen for me this year. A lot of people are surely in the same situation, so I figured I'd spend some of what I budgeted for travel on helping other folks get there; if you can, please do the same (and consider donating to Bitch, too, to help with our very own Debbie Rasmussen's costs).

In other not-entirely-unrelated news (I can't say I'm unhappy about the high fuel prices driving up the cost of flying and driving and making people reconsider their destructive habits), on Wednesday morning Jen Angel (one of the founders of the late lamented Clamor and the aforementioned AMC) convinced me to go with her out to Chevron's corporate headquarters in San Ramon, California, to take part in a protest at their annual shareholders' meeting.

The protest was organized by an amazing coalition of organizations from many different places around the world where Chevron has wreaked greedy havoc: Direct Action to Stop the War, Amazon Watch, Laotian Organizing Project, Asian Pacific Environmental Network, Justice for Nigeria Now (they don't have a website, but more info about Chevon's activities in Nigeria can be found here [h/t to Jen]), Global Exchange, Burmese American Democratic Alliance—SF, Filipino American Coalition for Environmental Solidarity, Rainforest Action Network, US Labor Against the War, United for Peace and Justice—Bay Area, Richmond Greens, Richmond Progressive Alliance, and the West County Toxics Coalition.

A delegation from Ecuador, Nigeria, Burma, and the San Ramon backyard of Richmond went inside the meeting to address the shareholders with information about environmental and human rights abuses in their communities. It was enraging and moving to hear their stories, and inspiring to see how the coalition worked: an example of true global solidarity, with different community-led groups joining forces with the recognition that we are all connected.

Here's Free Speech Radio News's brief report on the protest and the underlying issues, some photos of from this protest and some from the ExxonMobil meeting the same day, Jen's blog post about it, a decent mainstream media article, and further info from coalition members.

And now the randomness: After the protest, I ate a burrito and then got a tattoo (excuse the bad picture, the phone on my camera bites). It's a reading muse on my right ankle to match the writing muse already on my left. I'm hoping the new balance will help me move some of my writing projects forward. The original art came from the brilliant Kate Bornstein's wise and compassionate book Hello Cruel World: 101 Alternatives to Suicide for Teens, Freaks, and Other Outlaws.

Some thoughts on privilege, agenda-setting, and what to do next

Lisa Jervis — Mon, 05 May 2008 15:17:46 -0400

So The Angry Black Woman has called this Carnival of Allies, which these days feels to me like the best idea ever, because I really need some guidance. One of the many, many things the events of the last month and change have taught me is that, um, to put it mildly, my anti-racist ally skills could use some honing.

What that means is that right now I need to listen to people who know more than me: to their analysis, to their experiences, to their strategies (not that I'm expecting anyone to hand me the answers on a silver platter, or that I think it's up to other people to tell me all about what's wrong with the world I live in, or that I plan to rely on others to do my intellectual heavy lifting, or that...yeah, you get the picture). And I'm eager to read what the carnival brings forth.

But if I just want to listen, why the hell am I talking? Well, when you have power—which, as a founder of this organization, I do, even though I haven't worked at Bitch since the spring of 2006—listening isn't the clearest thing in the world. In practical terms, it works the same way as approval, or it sends a message about what's important, or it lets people assume you agree with them. So I want to be clear on a few things: The clusterfuck that Sudy called "(W)AM and a Seal" has exposed a lot of racism that a lot of people already knew about and that others (yeah, like me) had the luxury of being able to ignore. It has not been—as some people who just want to make it all go away would suggest—about arguments between individuals, or any one person's career. It has been about power and who gets to wield it and how. The flawed-but-necessary apologies that have been issued, which are a kinda decent first step but which are also themselves symptoms of the problem, don't mean that we can "move on," that everything can or should "blow over." No, the whole mess needs to be a wake-up call, or what's the point of this thing called feminism?

That’s why sticking 100% with the listening doesn't feel right, even though I'm not saying anything that hasn't been said before, better than I ever could*. Even though I don't feel I can be writing about ally-hood with any kind of authority (and boy howdy am I used to writing with authority, which is but one in the knotty set of problems privilege presents). Even though writing what little I have to say seems a little bit like demanding attention for myself when paying attention to me is the last thing anyone should do. I'm takin' a stab at it, because, as shameful as it is that it took such an extreme series of events to pierce my comfortable fog of privileged blindness (wow, did I actually buy the myth that the third wave’s constant lip service to intersectionality meant that racism within feminism wasn’t as much of a problem as it was decades ago?), I've had a "click" moment more important than the ones that brought me to feminism in the first place.

This click has been so huge because so much of what went down did so in my little corner of the feminist world (to be clear: mine like "I live there," not "like I own it"). And so it's in the context of that corner—feminist and/or independent media folks, most of whom profess to see feminism as allying with other social justice movements to address all oppressions, and who work mostly in organizations led and primarily populated by white folks—that I speak.

The reactions, comments, and on- and offline conversations I’ve had and witnessed lately have graphically exposed how individual missteps and misunderstandings, even well-meaning ones, are shot through with unexamined privilege, and how that interlocks with institutions to produce a whiter, more elite movement.

Those of us with privilege have to recognize that race and class privilege permeate the way agendas are set, and if we don't actively, consistently, and pretty much constantly strive to center the voices and perspectives of those who are most marginalized, our agendas will be those of privilege and we will replicate some of the conditions we think we are working against.

Like when someone on a feminist media discussion list points out that immigration, prisons, and policing are crucial feminist issues, and the reaction is "Well, should we stop working on [insert more “traditional” feminist topic], then?" Like when attempts to talk about racism and classism within feminism are met with comments about how feminism is the least racist and classist sector of U.S. culture (I’m sorry, since when is our bar that low?). Instead of assuming that bringing a feminist analysis to a certain issue is saying that no other issues are important or deserve feminist attention (um, don’t we already know how counterproductive the hierarchy of oppressions bullshit is?), we need to think about how fighting feminist battles on the margins (for example, working against brutal policing [including rape and sexual assault] and wrongful detention in immigrant communities) can produce change toward the center as well (as in, better tactics for holding rapists accountable in any setting).

Too often privileged feminists (and I include myself here, big time) are content to work from the center out, sincerely wanting and hoping for the change to make it out to the margins, but we're not willing to let go of control and power, or set aside our privilege-informed agendas, enough to help ensure that the change actually makes it out there.

That has to stop.

Do I know how? Damn, I wish. (Though, for reasons very well put in the third paragraph here, it would be a little messed-up for me to think I could.)

But throwing up my hands in dismay over the hugeness of the challenges ahead is a cop-out. So, with full awareness of the so-not-newness of these ideas*, the difficulty I will no doubt have in taking my own advice, the barest surface-scratching that this represents, and the fact that while what I'm saying is meant for others it is also chock full of things I myself have been overdue to hear, I'm gonna forge ahead with some tips for privileged folks in my corner of the feminist world:

Let** someone else tell you what's important for a change, rather than the other way around.
Let go** of the impulse to always be the leader and/or the authority.
Embrace the fact that letting** someone else lead and decide what's important is good for you and for the continued strength and vitality of feminism.
Recognize that sometimes your feelings will be hurt, important events will transpire without you, decisions will be made without your input, you won't always be able to explain yourself and you will feel misunderstood. Suck it up.
Having to beating back your own defensiveness is a small price to pay for the privilege you walk around in the world with. Don't take it out on other people.

*There's no way for me to acknowledge everyone whose work has influenced me as I struggle to address these issues. Obviously, I've been helped enormously by everyone I've linked to. The links aren't exhaustive, though, and I'm grateful to all the bloggers and commenters who've been writing furiously over the last month, even the ones I've totally disagreed with ('cause even dumb comments are food for thought); to the friends and colleagues who've taken time to talk things through with me; and to all the writers and activists who've provided me with my ongoing feminist education.

** This language is not intended to frame feminism as something that those with power "let" those without power have access to. 'Cause recognizing that it's not like that doesn't mean denying that those with power need to do something with it other than hold on tight.

This made me smile

Lisa Jervis — Wed, 16 Apr 2008 17:14:25 -0400

Sorry for the terrible photo quality—I took this with my phone out the window of a car on the way to my acupuncture appointment the other day. I wanted to stop on the way back and get a better shot, but I was late getting the car back (I don't have my own but use the awesome City Car Share program when I can't bike or get somewhere on pubic transit), so I couldn't.

it's one of those plain graffiti-style ads for one of the dumb-looking movies of the moment, and it now says: "My mother always hated you, capitalism."

Hee.