Showing posts with label books. Show all posts
Showing posts with label books. Show all posts

Friday, 6 July 2012

Eating Dirt and Finding a Church

In my last post I wrote about reading Circling Faith, a book of essays by women about Southern Spirituality.  One essay that deserved more than simply sharing quotes was Beth Ann Fennelly's "Taking Terrior in Faith."

I learned a new concept from reading this essay, a practice called 'geophagy,' and it basically means the consumption of dirt clay.  Yes, from the ground . . . people eating dirt.  It brought a whole new meaning to the practice we joke about as a childhood pastime, making mud pies and cakes and joyfully feeling the mud between our fingers and toes.  

Fennelly writes, "The practice has been found on all continents, in various peoples, even in animals.  And in all times: Apparently, people have been eating the earth since they've been walking the earth . . . In the United States, geophagy has become associated with the South - usually with poor rural pregnant women, especially African American ones . . . slaves brought the habit with them to plantations, where it became known as Cachexia Africana" (53-4). It has now become an 'underground' activity, (you can purchase it on the internet and have it shipped to you in the mail) but is still commonly practiced by many people.  However, it's not like people are going out in their backyards and scooping mounds of earthworm-filled, gritty dirt into their mouths with a spoon.  Most of the actual clay comes from the South and it's taken from beneath ground level where it is uncontaminated with "manure, parasites, or pesticides" (56).
Source
She says there are five basic theories for why people eat dirt: (1) it satisfies hunger (2)  it provides minerals that might be lacking in people's diets (3) it can neutralize poisons (4) it has been known to reduce nausea and indigestion and (5) dirt is good for us.  

So what does geophagy have to do with faith?  Fennelly says that studying, researching, and considering why people consume dirt is similar to her "more serious quest to understand what [she] feel[s] about religion . . . now [she] see[s] that [her] interest in geophagy has mirrored the pattern of [her] interest in faith.  The questions they present are similar.  Both faith and geophagy are, for many, deepened by daily ritual.  They are frequently site-specific . . . we can find ourselves hungrier in some seasons than in others for their mysterious nourishment.  Both tastes are passed down, inherited from out parents.  Both seem absurd to non-practitioners" (59).  It seemed a pretty unlikely comparison to me, but it does seem to make sense, and I was certainly intrigued to learn about this unique practice that I'd never heard of before.  

She also discusses her search for a church, and it reminded me of my husband and my recent search for churches.  When we first moved to Dayton we went to so many churches I can't even remember all of them, carefully trying them on.  Which one fit?  Snug and comfortable, but leaving toe-room for growth?  

We finally found a small Episcopal church about 50 minutes away from us with friendly parishioners, a dedicated rector who delivered beautiful sermons, and a great mission to their community.  But we became frustrated in the commutes (especially in the wintertime) and in our inability (again, because of the commute) to become involved.  It seemed just right, except for its inconvenient location.  For the longest time we told ourselves that maybe a church this great meant we needed to work for it - God didn't think it should come to us that easy.  We were going to have to put in some effort.  But eventually a couple missed Sundays turned into weeks and months and we haven't been back since last summer.  And we've missed church.  

We attended several others close by for a couple months each, but nothing seemed to be working, not to mention the hospitality seemed nonexistent in some places (which seems to be another problem in churches altogether).  Then, we had what some call 'home-church', reading our Bible and Christian/Spiritual books together on our balcony or on the couch.  But I think we've both recently come to the conclusion that it's just not enough.  We want to be part of a church, even if we've had numerous bad experiences with them.  Similar to Fennelly, we feel a "vague, gnawing hunger, a hunger for food [we've] never eaten yet" (60).  Now, we hope to continue this search with a renewed appetite, and an invitation to a church our friends have recently started attending.  

Because of our own church-hunting experience, Fennelly's final words of her essay really resonated with me: ". . . we allow the body of another to become our own; the eating of the bread, the symbol of the body, brings about rebirth . . . I'm sticking with Sunday services though the dreamed-of clarity has not yet descended.  So many others have found nourishment here.  Maybe educating my palate is the first step.  Maybe the leap comes next" (61).

Thursday, 5 July 2012

Summer Reading: Post 6 - Circling Faith

"Faith is . . . not firm.  Nor is it a settled state or a fixed noun.  We've decided it is an ongoing process, a verb" (Reed and Horne 6).


"This is my living faith, an active faith, a faith of verbs: to question, explore, experiment, experience, walk, run, dance, play, eat, love, learn, dare, taste, touch, smell, listen, argue, speak, write, read, draw, provoke, emote, scream, sin, repent, cry, kneel, pray, bow, rise, stand, look, laugh, cajole, create, confront, confound, walk back, walk forward, circle, hide and seek"
- - Terry Tempest Williams


Circling Faith: Southern Women on Spirituality, Ed. by Wendy Reed and Jennifer Horne (Source)
I love the cover art for the book I've been reading this past week: simple, elegant, and it appropriately reminds me of the south - the bees, the bones, the flowers.  The lovely cover is what made me pick it up off the 'new in religion/spirituality' shelf at the library.  I thought it would be a great one to read after Winner's Still and although I didn't read all the essays in the collection, I did very much enjoy the ones I did read, skimming through many of the others.  The introduction to the book, written by the two editors, discusses the process of coming out with this second collection after receiving such great feedback from their first, All Out of Faith.  However, with their first book of essays they suspected a controversy but were met instead with lots of women who felt their own stories had been told - their voices were being heard and there were other women having questioning conversations about faith and spirituality.

So, they started work on this second collection: "The story begins: Two women and a laptop walk into a monastery. (There is no bar - the country's dry; there are no men - it's all nuns).  For inspiration, they'd brought books.  For sleep, they'd brought PJs.  For thirst, they'd stashed a cooler in the trunk.  This was before Eat, Pray, Love had sold millions of copies, inspiring women all over the world to seek spiritual retreat . . ." (3).  I was intrigued.  And what followed was a book of essays written by women discussing their relationship oftentimes with their body/flesh and their faith/spirituality.  "As several of our essayists note, we are, after all, creatures of flesh and spirit.  Remaining open to the wonder and mystery of both sometimes take courage.  With this book we are hoping to inspire conversation and encourage vulerability, to challenge memory, to up the volume.  What follows are voices, sartorial words echoing and tumbling, patching and mending . . ." (8). I became even more intrigued and excited as I began reading the essays.

What follows are quotes from the introduction and a couple of the essays that interested me and I found worth sharing.  Similar to the authors' comments in their introduction I was moved by the essayists' discoveries about their own connections with their bodies and spirits.

Reed and Horne (Source)
- - from "Introduction: A Faith of Verbs" by Reed and Horne
'Some keep the Sabbath going to church; / I keep it staying home" - - Emily Dickinson

"One mother expressed delight to read of faith being discussed outside the church walls.  For a while, she'd been telling people who asked, 'We home-church'" (5).

"We passed a pawn shop that proclaimed 'Jesus Saves' right alongside 'We Buy Guns.'  The oddest part, we decided, was that it didn't seem odd, and we agreed that it was a Southern thing, inexplicable to many, even - if we thought about it - to ourselves" (5).

"We remembered wondering, as a child, why you had to dress up to go to church and being told that it had to do with showing respect to God, which included wearing a slip with your dress . . . Was God some kind of fashion police?  Did God listen only to those who were properly attired?  Wasn't God more present in the exaltation you felt in the high limbs of a tree or in the feeling of running barefoot across a soft lawn, than in the itchy tights and hard patent-leather shoes you wore to church?" (7-8).


"It's all very well to consider the lilies in the field, but a lily never experience closet trauma or wondered whether the field made her butt look big" (8).


- - from "Amazons in Appalachia" by Marilou Awiakta:

"I am Cherokee.
      My people believe in the Spirit that unites all things.
      I am woman.  I am life force.  My word has great value.
      The man reveres me as he reveres Mother Earth and his own spirit . . .
      Women share in all of life.  We lead sacred dances.  In the Council we debate freely with men until an agreement is reached.  When the nation considers war, we have a say, for we bear the warriors.
      Sometimes I go into battle.  I also plant and harvest . . .
      I love and work and sing.
      I listen to the Spirit.
      In all things I speak my mind.
      I walk without fear.
      I am Cherokee" (63-4).

"The Grandmother's hand on my arm halts my imaginings.  We stand at the edge of a secluded clearing, rimmed with tall pines.  In the center is a large log house and around it women - many women - move through sun and shadow.  Some walk in the clearing . . . A great weaving is going on here, a deep bonding . . . 'This is the menstrual lodge,' says the Grandmother.  'When our power sign is with us, we come here.  It is a sacred time - a time for rest and meditation.  No one is allowed to disturb our harmony.  No warrior may even cross our path.  In the menstrual lodge many things are known, many plans are made'" (68-9).

- - from "What the Body Knows" by Barbara Brown Taylor:
"Sacraments schooled me in the wedding of spirit and flesh.  I learned how to do the official ones in church - not just communion, but also baptism, reconciliation, the laying on of hands - and then, when I had the hang of seeing the holy in the most ordinary things, I moved on to celebrating the sacraments of picnic lunches, ordinary baths, forgiving embraces, and rubbing sick friends' feet.  Once you get the pattern down, there is really no place to stop.  Every material thing opens a door to the infinite.  Every bodily activity holds sacred possibility.   All that is necessary for this transformation to take place is someone to see it and say so, taking one small piece of the world in her hands and saying a blessing over it" (107).

"Every single day I am presented with the opportunity to wake up, say something kind and thankful over this body, and offer it to the world in a way that promises to be useful.  I accept the sacraments of other people's bodies in the same way.  They feed me, I feed them: bread of heaven, cup of salvation, given for you . . . Knowing neither the end nor the beginning, my body knows this: this is my soul's home on earth, in which I am pleased to dwell" (110).

- - from "Alice Walker Calls God 'Mama:' An Interview with Alice Walker" by Valerie Reiss
"I think that if there are periods when you're not doing something that you're used to doing, it means that you can spend that time doing something else.  If I get up and I think I'm going to write something and it's not there, rather than sitting there and trying to wait for it or try to give it a little nudge, I think, 'Oh, I can do something else with this time.' And then, there's so much else to do" (189).

"I paint.  I garden.  I dance.  I cook. I farm.  I have never felt that the one thing that I am 'known for' is what I am" (189).

- - from "Signs of Faith" by Barbara Robinette Moss
"I put my hands on my torso and felt the metal staples under my shirt; my belly seemed hot, but I felt cold.  Cold and thin.  As if I'd been washed in hot water and had shrunk to practically nothing.  Or to my very essence.  No matter what - there was an awareness inside me, so unexplainable.  Isn't that God?  I argued.  God essence?  The drugs were catching up with me and I felt too confused to go on ruminating.  A floating feeling washed over me and my eyes closed.  Dear God, I prayed, help me find my way" (197).

Monday, 2 July 2012

Summer Reading: Post 5 - Still

"...the whole bookstore is a self-help section to me.  When something needs to be fixed. When I need something to change, my first and abiding instinct is to read.  I think I can read my way to a solution.  Or at least an evasion." - - Lauren Winner, Still: Notes on a Mid-Faith Crisis


Lauren Winner's Still: Notes on a Mid-Faith Crisis (Source)
I picked up Lauren Winner's newest book Still: Notes on a Mid-Faith Crisis from the library last week, planning to read it between breaks with Iris Murdock's Nuns and Soldiers, which I'm reading with a couple of my girlfriends. Scott introduced me to Winner by giving me Mudhouse Sabbath for Christmas, which I love, so I thought I'd read this one next (she also has one called Girl Meets God which is more about her journey into Christianity).  Winner was raised Jewish but became a Christian in college, and she now teaches at the Duke Divinity School in Durham, North Carolina.  Her writing has an easy, conversational flow, and I oftentimes find myself taking notes (or highlighting) when I read her.  I seem to really relate to her self-deprecations, her honesty and humor in admitting that she's not perfect by any means, but that admitting it and working towards positive change is the first step.  And ironically, though I wasn't raised Jewish I seem to relate to her more than other contemporary Christian writers I've tried.  I also enjoyed this book in particular because its structure and format reminded me somewhat of blog posts since many of her chapters were short and seemed like brief (but profound) reflections on daily activities.

In her own words, Winner describes Still as "a book about entering the middle, about being in the middle of the spiritual life . . . Once upon a time, I thought I had arrived.  Now I have arrived at a middle.  If life is long, I am still at the beginning of the middle.  Once I would have said, 'Blessed assurance, Jesus is mine.'  From here, I say with the poet, 'O Lord of melons, of mercy, though I am not ready, nor worthy, I am climbing toward you.'  This books represents a few miles of the climb.  I share it in the hope that you might find it good company for your own climbing" (Preface).

In the 'author q and a' section at the back of the book she describes it further: "I wanted to emphasize the subtle but hugely significant shift from depressed, intense crisis to pacific openness, from no sense of God to a new sense of God.  From wrenched and wrecked to calm communion with a God I both know and don't know . . . the real crisis point . . . is the prelude to the book.  The spiritual unraveling, the alienation from God that I felt . . . that is the backstory. . . [it] opens at the tail end of darkness.  The book is not primarily a picture of the darkness.  It is a picture of the end of the darkness, of the stumbling out of the darkness into something new" (202).

While I'm thankfully not going through the death of my mother or a divorce after a five-year marriage like Winner describes in her book, her story has certainly comforted me in my recent climbing (or I might even call it, hiking) the small hill that is job-hunting/what's next?/letting go-letting God/trying to remember everything's going to work out in the end/continuing my journey toward patience.

Because most of my current 'hiking/climbing' deals with trying not to worry about what's next in my life job-wise, Winner's sections on anxiety particularly resonated with me.  I felt like everything she was saying was addressed to me and I wanted to scream, "Yes, that's exactly how I feel!!"  Sometimes I think there are a lot of us who deal with anxiety but we feel like we're the only ones.  And then we hear other people's battles and finally realize it's not some weird phenomena.  Even sweating the small things, Winner suggests about herself and others that this is  "a sort of practice worrying so that when the next . . . crisis rolled around [we're] in good shape . . . This is one of the many ways I am just like my mother.  As far back as I can remember, anxiety has been my close companion, having taken up residence in the small second-floor bedroom of the house that is my body . . . I don't imagine it will ever tire of the neighborhood and move out."  Similarly, I can admit my battle with anxiety; like Winner I've been told all my life not to worry, but it's what comes naturally, the thorn in my flesh.

Again, Winner's words are a comfort: "One way to give up anxiety is to meditate . . . The desert saints said that the beginning of renouncing a thought is simply noticing it . . . after noticing a thought replace it with prayer."  Although I've been told all my life not to worry, it has never truly sunk in; I know worrying does absolutely no good and it's not going to change a thing.  But I'd never really considered it as "the greatest evil which can happen to the soul, sin only excepted" (Francis de Sales, 17th Century priest and writer).  "The anxious heart, in its flailings, loses hold on whatever graces God has bestowed upon it, and is sapped of the strength to resist the temptations of the Evil One who is all the more ready to fish in troubled waters."

Winner suggests, "When you are conscious that you are growing anxious, commend yourself to God and resolve steadfastly not to take any steps whatever to obtain the result you desire, until your disturbed state of mind is altogether quited," praying this prayer . . .

"O God of Peace, who hast taught us that in returning and rest we shall be saved, in quietness and in confidence shall be our strength: By the might of the spirit lift us, we pray thee, to thy presence where we may be still and know that thou art God."

When I picked up this book I didn't think it would have such an effect on me, mainly because I don't feel that I'm going through a 'mid-faith crisis;' but I am climbing, and aren't we all most of the time?  Or at least resting from a very recent climb? I'm sure I'll have to remind myself of these words about anxiety (perhaps tomorrow), remembering the prayer when I begin doubting, and I know that I've not gone through some kind of drastic change after reading this book - I will still get anxious and worried.  But I have been comforted a bit in knowing there are others who struggle with these same feelings, and others who are climbing even taller, more dangerous mountains than my current little mole-hole.  

Thursday, 28 June 2012

Sumer Reading: Post 4 - The Night Circus

Source
So I admit that including this one in my summer reading series is a little like cheating because this is a book Scott and I have been reading aloud together, but in my defense it is part of my summer reading.  I highly recommend Erin Morgenstern's The Night Circus, a fun, magical escape read.  My husband actually picked it out for us to read together (he rarely reads fiction) and described it to me as a book about two dueling magicians and a circus that appears mysteriously in different towns and cities across the world; one day it's there, the next it could possibly disappear without notice.  I was hooked and I hope you think it sounds magical too, because it is! It's been so much fun to read.

The plot and character development keeps your attention, you can't wait to see where it takes you next, and you're traveling everywhere from London, Paris, Munich, and Cairo.  The descriptions of the circus acts, costumes, and enchantments are brilliant and unique.  As one reviewer describes it, "It is intensely visual . . . Morgenstern paints precise, evocative and visually lush scenes within the tents of her fictional circus. Reading the novel is, in this respect, more like watching a film in the making – not an ordinary film, however, but an imaginative collaboration between writer and reader."  Though I wouldn't quite compare it to the genius world of Harry Potter, the world Morgenstern creates is similarly magical and dangerous (minus the monsters and creatures) but I'm sad to see that Twilight fans are lumped in as expected fan readers here.  Whatever you might hear, from what I can tell about Twilight, The Night Circus is vastly different!

There are several different covers of the book, but each one is really spectacular, and they give you a feel for what awaits inside.  I think it would certainly be fun to see it made into a movie; my bets are that it will be before we know it, and Scott and I have had a time trying to decide who would be best to play the various characters.  So if you're looking to get away this summer we highly recommend Erin Morgenstern's The Night Circus!

Source
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Tuesday, 26 June 2012

Summer Reading: Post 3 - 1984

"Books were just a commodity that had to be produced, like jam or bootlaces."

My (hopefully consistent) summer reading series about books I somehow missed reading till now continues.  This week I read 1984 by George Orwell (and yes, this was my first time reading it unfortunately).  I read Animal Farm in my sophomore English class in high school and I remember I really enjoyed it, particularly the brief discussions we had in class.   A friend of mine gave me my copy of 1984 for my seventeenth birthday at the beginning of my senior year.  It's traveled with me during my three moves since then, and though I hadn't yet read it, I always included it in my boxes of books, placing it on the shelves with all the others upon arrival in my new places.  For the past two and a half years it's spent its days next to Scott's paperback copy of Animal Farm.

Picture of the slogan in 1984: War is Peace. Slavery is Freedom. Ignorance is Strength.  Source
Similar to Beloved I started 1984 once before, but was unsuccessful, obviously.  But once again, picking it up now I was hooked from the beginning.  Because I'd already read Margaret Atwood's The Handmaid's Tale twice I couldn't help but envision her world while reading 1984.  I highly recommend both Atwood and Orwell if dystopian literature appeals to you at all.

Even though I envisioned similar 'worlds' while reading these two books, they are not at all similar in their portrayal of women and the working-class (Atwood focuses more on women while Orwell focuses more on the working-class - referred to as the 'proles/proletarains' - there's a lovely diagram of the hierarchy of social classes in Orwell's world here).

Treatment of Women
I'm sure I could write a whole post devoted solely to the differences between how Orwell and Atwood treat women differently (and maybe I will).  Atwood is certainly concerned with how women are currently treated in society, giving us an over-exaggerated version so we can see the similarities between their society and ours - women are often used and viewed only as bodies and child-bearers.  Orwell's, on the other hand, seems to allow women more agency - - you have this (so it seems) kick-ass woman who is rebellious, but also talks of women, saying she lives "always in the stink of women! How I hate women!" (130).  While reading, I was taken aback several times by some of the small comments Orwell makes about women throughout the novel, referring to them as stupid and easily-manipulated, but perhaps we would have gotten similar comments if Atwood's novel had been written from a man's point of view; I'm sure the men in her world were thinking similar thoughts of abuse towards women.  But it was often hard to understand Orwell's motives and message about women (unlike Atwood who sets up a complex feminist agenda - although I'm sure some could and would argue about this).

Working-Class Heroes 
Though I didn't particularly appreciate Orwell's treatment of women, I did find the working-class/ 'proles' commentary fascinating.  Thanks to my last few classes in grad school I am intrigued by working-class studies; in fact, I've just ordered a book called What We Hold in Common: An Introduction to Working-Class Studies, edited by Janet Zaney.  I'm dying for it to arrive so I can explore  this new discipline, and honestly I'm interested in what this community of writers has to say about the working-class.  I'm also curious to see if these are people from the academy discussing working-class issues, or people who come from a working-class background (hoping it's a mixture of both).  Anyway, back to 1984...the proles play a huge role in the story and become quite glorified as a people (for me at least) throughout the book.  Though they are obviously looked down on (or better yet, ignored) by the Inner Party and Party members, the narrator certainly gives us reason to believe they're something special in fixing 'the problems:'

"What mattered were individual relationships, and a completely helpless gesture, an embrace, a tear, a word spoken to a dying man, could have value in itself.  The proles, it suddenly occurred to him, had remained in this condition.  They were not loyal to a party or a country or an idea, they were loyal to one another.  For the first time in his life he did not despise the proles or think of them merely as an inert force which would one day spring to life and regenerate the world.  The proles had stayed human. They had not become hardened inside.  They had held onto the primitive emotions which he himself had to relearn by conscious effort . . . 'The proles are human beings,' he said aloud, 'We are not human'" (165).

And to me this is so powerful: "The proles were immortal; you could not doubt it when you looked at that valiant [woman] figure in the yard.  In the end their awakening would come.  And until that happened, though it might be a thousand years, they would stay alive against all odds, like birds, passing on from body to body the vitality which the Party did not share and could not kill . . . The birds sang, the proles sang, the Party did not sing . . . everywhere stood the same solid unconquerable [woman] figure, made monstrous by work and childbearing, toiling from birth to death and still singing.  Out of those mighty loins a race of conscious beings must one day come.  You were the dead; theirs was the future.  But you could share in the future if you kept alive the mind as they kept alive the body, and passed on the secret doctrine that two plus two make four" (221-2).


"And the people under the sky were also very much the same - everywhere, all over the world, hundreds or thousands of millions of people just like this, people ignorant of one another's existence, held apart by walls of hatred and lies, and yet almost exactly the same - people who had never learned to think but were storing up in their hearts and bellies and muscles the power that would one day overturn the world.  If there was hope, it lay in the proles!"

There were several times when reading about the working-class proles of 1984 I was reminded of two recent films - In Time and The Hunger Games - which both depict working-class characters trying desperately to change the socio-political hierarchies in their respective worlds.  But the working-class characters also display the 'human' qualities discussed in Orwell, examples of humanity in societies that have become inhumane in their actions and policies.

The Role of Sex
Finally, it's interesting that the role of sex is similar in both Orwell's and Atwood's novels.  Sex is repressed by the societies, and sex is only seen as appropriate for procreation (if you've read the book, you'll see why the cover illustration below is so funny - or maybe that was just me).  As Orwell writes,

"Sexual intercourse was to be looked on as a slightly disgusting minor operation, like having an enema" (65).


"What was more important was that sexual privation induced hysteria, which was desirable because it could be transformed into war fever and leader worship . . . When you make love you're using up energy; and afterwards you feel happy and don't give a damn for anything.  They can't bear you to feel like that.  They want you to be bursting with energy all the time.  All this marching up and down and cheering and waving flags is simply sex gone sour . . . There was a direct, intimate connection between chastity and political orthodoxy" (133).


Interesting cover art, not at all what I pictured while I was reading (source)
And per routine, here are some more quotes I found intriguing:

"He was a lonely ghost uttering a truth that nobody would ever hear.  But so long as he uttered it, in some obscure way the continuity was not broken.  It was not by making yourself heard but by staying sane that you carried on the human heritage" (28).

"It struck him as curious that you could create dead men but not living ones" (48).

I particularly found the discussions about Newspeak interesting: "It's a beautiful thing, the destruction of words.  Of course the great wastage is in the verbs and adjectives, but there are hundreds of nouns that can be got rid of as well.  It isn't only the synonyms; there are also antonyms.  After all, what justification is there for a word which is simply the opposite of some other words?  A word contains its opposite in itself . . . Every year fewer and fewer words, and the range of consciousness always a little smaller" (51-2).

"Always in your stomach and in your skin there was a sort of protest, a feeling that you had been cheated of something that you had a right to.  It was true that he had no memories of anything greatly different.  In any time that he could accurately remember, there had never been quite enough to eat, one had never had enough socks or underclothes that were not full of holes, furniture had always been battered and rickety, rooms underheated, Tube trains crowded, houses falling to pieces, bread dark-colored, tea a rarity, coffee filthy-tasting, cigarettes insufficient - nothing cheap and plentiful except synthetic gin . . . Why should one feel it to be intolerable unless one had some kind of ancestral memory that things had once been different?" (60).

"The obvious, the silly, and the true had got to be defended.  Truisms are true, hold on to that! The solid world exists, its laws do not change.  Stones are hard, water is wet, objects unsupported fall toward the earth's center" (81).

I guess one of the things that fascinated me most about reading 1984 was how relevant and timeless it is, not in every aspect of course, but certainly in many: "For if leisure and security were enjoyed by all alike, the great mass of human beings who are normally stupefied by poverty would become literate and would learn to think for themselves; and when once they have done this, they would sooner or later realize that the privileged minority [a.k.a. the 1%] had not function, and they would sweep it away.  In the long run, a hierarchical society was only possible on a basis of poverty and ignorance.  To return to the agricultural past, as some thinkers about the beginning of the twentieth century dreamed of doing, was not a practical solution.  It conflicted with the tendency toward mechanization which had become quasi-instinctive throughout almost the whole world, and moreover, any country which remained industrially backward was helpless in a military sense and was bound to be dominated, directly or indirectly, by its more advanced rivals" (190).

Sunday, 17 June 2012

Summer Reading: Post 2 - Night

" . . . books, just like people, have a destiny.  Some invite sorrow, others joy, some both." 
- - Elie Wiesel

Source
Night by Elie Wiesel
I've read a lot of Holocaust Literature and other books, fiction and nonfiction, centered around the Jewish Holocaust (To See You Again, The SunflowerSarah's KeyThe Book Thief, and Maus to name a few great ones) but I sadly hadn't read Night, which we all know is so short it can literally be read in an afternoon.  So what was I doing with my time and in my classes?  Well, for one reading Jane Austen's novels over and over again for numerous different courses.

Even though Night is deemed one of the 'classics of Holocaust Literature,' I found its abrupt ending somewhat unsettling and it just seemed like there was something missing.  In the Preface, Wiesel mentions that the book, which "was written in Yiddish as And the World Remained Silent and translated first in French, then into English - was rejected by every major publisher, French and American" (8).  He also notes that he made numerous cuts and was told countless times that it was just too long (although most of us know it's fairly short for a memoir/novel, my copy was just 135 pages).  Though the version I read was a more recent translation, I sensed that perhaps these cuts might have been extremely important and should have been left in as he would have liked.  In the Preface he gives several examples of narrative that was cut when translated into English and these seemed to me the strongest, most reflective of the book.  Most likely he included them in the Preface so that they could, in a sense, be included despite publishers' best efforts to keep them out.

Perhaps I've just read so many other narratives about the Holocaust that touched me more (others were written from young women's perspectives, which might have something to do with it?) or maybe I started reading, knowing that there were things missing that he would have liked to have included.  Either way it was an honest portrayal of his devastating experience during the Holocaust, but more importantly, as he writes in the Preface:

"In retrospect I must confess that I do not know, or no longer know, what I wanted to achieve with my words.  I only know that without this testimony, my life as a writer - or my life, period - would not have become what it is: that of a witness who believes he has a moral obligation to try to prevent the enemy from enjoying one last victory by allowing his crimes to be erased from human memory" (6).

Source
More quotes from the Preface . . .

"Painfully aware of my limitations, I watched helplessly as language became an obstacle.  It became clear that it would be necessary to invent a new language.  But how was one to rehabilitate and transform words betrayed and perverted by the enemy?  Hunger - thirst - transport - selection - fire - chimney: these words all have intrinsic meaning, but in those times, they meant something else" (7).

"And so I persevered.  And trusted the silence that envelops and transcends words.  Knowing all the while that any of the fields of ashes in Birkenau carries more weight than all the testimonies about Birkenau.  For, despite all my attempts to articulate the unspeakable, 'it' is still not right" (8).

"To forget would be not only dangerous but offensive; to forget the dead would be akin to killing them a second time" (13).

"Sometimes I am asked if I know 'the response to Auschwitz;' I answer that not only do I not know it, but that I don't even know if a tragedy of this magnitude has a response.  What I do know is that there is 'response' in responsibility.  When we speak of this era of evil and darkness, so close and yet so distant, 'reponsibility' is the key word.  The witness has forced himself to testify.  For the youth of today, for the children who will be born tomorrow.  He does not want his past to become their future" (13).

Summer Reading: Post 1 - Beloved

One of my plans for this summer is to catch up reading books I (somehow) missed despite receiving a B.A. and M.A. in English Literature.  Though I don't want to make a rigorous schedule (like a job) for myself now that I've got some free time, I do want to check off some books that I've been somewhat ashamed to say I haven't read.  I'll be adding to my list as the summer goes on and hopefully I'll stay motivated to keep it up.  Most of the books I already own; I've been collecting them from book sales and clearance bins, hoping to get around to it.  I graduated from my Masters' program going on two weeks now and I'm only working a part-time job this summer (along with applying to new ones) so I figure now's a better time than ever to catch up!

To keep myself (and this blog) going I thought I'd post a few reactions or maybe just some quotes I found interesting while reading these summer books (I am on break after all), and to kick it off I've pulled quotes from the first two on my list: Toni Morrison's Beloved and Elie Wiesel's Night (Post 2).

Beloved by Toni Morrison
Though I've heard numerous conference papers on Beloved and others of Morrison's books I had yet to read any before this past week.  I already owned it and even attempted reading it once in undergrad, obviously unsuccessfully.  But this time as soon as I started I couldn't put it down.
Toni Morrison - source
"To Sethe, the future was a matter of keeping the past at bay.  The 'better life' she believed she and Denver were living was simply not that other one . . . As for Denver, the job Sethe had of keeping her from the past that was still waiting for her was all that mattered" (42).


"For a used-to-be-slave woman to love anything that much was dangerous, especially if it was her children she had settled on to love" (45).


"'I don't care what she is.  Grown don't mean nothing to a mother.  A child is a child.  They get bigger, older, but grown? What's that supposed to mean? In my heart it don't mean a thing'" (45).


And perhaps my favorite parts were the descriptions of Baby Suggs, holy . . .
"In the silence that followed, Baby Suggs, holy, offered up to them her great big heart.  She did not tell them to clean up their lives or to go and sin no more.  She did not tell them they were the blessed of the earth, its inheriting meek or its glorybound pure.  She told them that the only grace they could have was the grace they could imagine.  That if they could not see it, they would not have it.


'Here,' she said, 'in this here place, we flesh; flesh that weeps, laughs; flesh that dances on bare feet in grass.  Love it.  Love it hard . . . Move than your life-holding womb and your life-giving private parts, hear me now, love your heart.  For this is the prize'" (88-9).


"[The voices] had become an occasional mutter - like the interior sounds a woman makes when she believes she is alone and unobserved at work: a sth when she misses the needle's eye; a soft moan when she sees another chip in her one good platter; the low, friendly argument with which she greets the hens.  Nothing fierce or startling.  Just that eternal, private conversation that takes place between women and their tasks" (172).


"Clever, but schoolteacher beat him anyway to show him that definitions belonged to the definers - not the defined" (190).


"Grandma Baby said people look down on her because . . . [s]laves not supposed to have pleasurable feelings on their own; their bodies not supposed to be like that, but they have to have as many children as they can to please whoever owned them.  Still, they were not supposed to have pleasure deep down. She said for me not listen to all that.  That I should always listen to my body and love it" (209).


". . . we got more yesterday than anybody.  We need some kind of tomorrow" (273).

Thursday, 7 June 2012

'Bad Girls:' Weaving the Fabric of Women

I just started reading Eve's Bible: A Woman's Guide to the Old Testament by Sarah S. Forth - thanks to my husband who saw it while browsing in the library - and though I don't agree with some of her assertions, I'm certainly intrigued by her emphasis on women "weaving ourselves into the fabric of biblical history" (41).  I am reminded of many of the readings from my Feminism and Christianity class that served to do this very thing, uncovering the (often) 'invisible' women of the Bible.  Many of us who heard Bible stories as children and attended Bible School rarely heard about the fascinating women of biblical times, or we were introduced to them as Bad Girls of the Bible (a book I actually studied in youth during high school).  Instead, the great men of the Bible served as examples for Christian discipleship, even though there are countless women who stand as powerful examples for Christian women (I've - sadly - only recently become acquainted with them while reading through Women of the Bible by Ann Spangler and Jean E. Syswerda, and many other empowering articles from the F/C class).

Forth continues Judith Plaskow's call to Christian women, "to reevision the biblical tradition [and] claim our place in the collective memory" (34).  In her chapter, "Putting Women Back into Sacred History," she writes,

While camped in the shadow of Mount Sinai, Moses called together the 'people of Israel' and instructed them to prepare for what would be the signal event of their forty years in the desert: receiving the laws of Yhwh (Yaweh).  After telling them to wash their clothes and to not approach the mountain from which God would speak, Moses added, 'Prepare for the third day; do not go near women' (Ex. 19:15).  


'At the very moment when Israel stands trembling waiting for God's presence to descend upon the mountain, Moses addresses the community only as men,' writes the Jewish scholar Judith Plaskow.  'Women are invisible.'


Plaskow calls upon women . . . 'to stand again at Sinai.'  By this she means to assert that women were there - at Sinai and all other junctures of sacred history (34).

Forth describes three ways that women can 'stand at Sinai' and remember that women were part of the fabric of Biblical history: (1) "excavate historical women," find their stories and tell them (this was something our professor of Feminism/Christianity urged of us as well, to share women's stories with our friends, children, family, anyone who would listen), (2) "reinterpret the historical record," take back the stories that have been used against as part of patriarchy in the Church, only viewing women as 'bad girls' and (3) imagine the experiences of these biblical women, 'using our creativity and imagination . . . to shape a new history for ourselves" as women, using "music, our bodies, paint, cloth, clay, or any other means at our disposal" (43).

"In our history-making, [Elizabeth] Schussler Fiorenza urges us to reject the violence and alienation [that have come about because of patriarchal interpretations of the Bible] (43). Here is one example of what Fiorenza calls a 'narrative amplification' of an existing story: 'Miriam's Song' by Julia Stein, taken from her book Shulamith, a collection of poems about biblical and modern Jewish women.  Stein supplies a missing viewpoint by assuming the voice of Miriam to describe the ten plagues that preceded the Israelites' release from bondage in Egypt" (41).

I've included only excerpts of the poem, but I thought it was absolutely beautiful!

Miriam's Song


I swept the house through nine plagues,
swept when Moses turned the river into blood,


swatted at frogs all day in Egyptians' kitchen,
chased frogs in the bedrooms, whacked at them


on the beds, jumped after frogs in the kitchen.  Next
I cleaned off the lice from the heads of the Egyptians . . . 


Before the tenth plague I swept once more, 
then roasted lamb and cut up bitter herbs we ate


remembering four hundred years of slavery
that terrible night the Angel of Death screeched


and screamed as he flew over our houses
on his bloody way to kill the Egyptians' sons . . . 


I wanted to smash the pyramids.
We'd built them well.  They'd last. A pity.


At the Red Sea, after we climbed onto the land and 
saw Pharaoh lead his chariots into a gap


riding between two huge cliffs of water when
mountains of water crashed down on them,


I called the women who came with cymbals and drums,
'Come dance now for we are flying into freedom.' 

Miriam's Song: Sing a Joyful Noise Unto the World, by Laura James, Ethiopian Iconographer, Giclee print
Source: eyekons.com via Jade on Pinterest

Saturday, 12 May 2012

"Confronted by Someone Else's Story"

I'm pulling from the archive today, republishing an old post from last year because of its relevancy.  Yesterday's post, "Thoughts on Amendment One and Christians," referenced Rachel Held Evans' blog post about the culture war being waged by groups of Christians against gay marriage and LGBT concerns.  Today, her post was equally powerful (if not more so), contemplating what it means that so many of us as Christians agree that we're ready to move from "waging war to washing feet," to praying for guidance and healing.  And even though others close to us may disapprove of us taking part in this conversation (at all), we need to understand that we're not alone in our individual journeys (wherever that may be on the spectrum).  Indeed, I think it's important that we meet each other on these journeys and learn to have loving conversations, rather than hateful confrontations.

Today's post emphasized the importance of stories.  Evans writes, 

We need to listen to one another’s stories. Time and time again, I talk to Christians whose experiences, like mine, go something like this: 


“I used to think that homosexuality was a sinful, promiscuous lifestyle that people chose in rebellion to God, and that Christians need to rally against the ‘gay agenda’ through legislative action. Then, my best friend (or brother or sister or son or daughter or high school buddy or neighbor or mentor) came out, and everything changed. Their story didn’t fit the stereotype. It didn’t fit into my previous categories. Their story made me see that things aren’t that simple, and that the ‘war’ between Christianity and homosexuality represents a false dichotomy that is incredibly painful and destructive to Christians with same-sex attractions. After that, I could no longer support the sort of rhetoric and actions that only serve to make this world a more hostile and hopeless place to the ones I loved. I kept thinking about all the depression, all the suicides, all the secrets. I just can’t support a culture that, perhaps inadvertently, fosters that.” 


Everything changes when you are confronted with someone else’s story (Source).

As I commented on Evans' blog, "I like that you've emphasized the importance of listening to others' stories. I am a 23-year-old Christian who grew up southern Baptist, raised to think homosexuality is a sin. Then I went to college and met gay and lesbian individuals whom I grew to love, listening to their stories and becoming 'torn' on the issue [she references a book called Torn: Rescuing the Gospel from Gay- vs. Christians Debate]. Then I went to grad school and met (and read) even more gay and lesbian individuals, who were also Christians.  I began reading Sara Miles' Take This Bread with my husband, reading Jennifer Finney Boylan's She's Not There, (perhaps what changed my mind more than anything), going to a talk by Jennifer Knapp (a lesbian Christian singer/songwriter), having conversations with other Christians about the 'issue,' and I've now evolved to call myself a Christian ally, supporting the LGBT community and fighting against the kind of prejudice and hatred you discussed in your last post. I'm very much looking forward to following what unfolds here, listening to more stories, and learning better ways to deal with situations like you faced with your husband (I deal with this. . . and I oftentimes have to 'hide' my own opinions just to keep the peace). I know there are so many of us who still do this, sadly - faced with situations where the LGBT community is being attacked without any hope for defense. Thank you for sharing and letting us all know we're not alone!"

Again, I agree with Evans that the stories are what need to be shared, because, as she says, "Everything changes when you are confronted with someone else’s story."  What follows is a post I wrote a year ago while taking Feminist Memoir.  I haven't changed anything because I think it's interesting (for myself at least) to see my growth and change even in a year's time, but also how this experience still shapes my worldview as a Christian. . .*would love to hear more from readers - what stories do you have to share?


This past week was both challenging and eye-opening.  Challenging, because it had come time to begin the final book for our Feminist Memoir class, and it dealt with transgender issues.  I'll admit I was close-minded about beginning my reading, and most of this can be blamed on my ignorance of the issue.  I read Jennifer (formerly James) Finney Boylan's She's Not There: A Life in Two Genders and quite literally, couldn't put it down.  I slowly learned what it means to be transgender, and for her specifically, it meant not ever truly feeling like she belonged in her own skin.  She would watch her mother iron her father's shirts, becoming frustrated when her mother would point out that she would wear shirts like these one day.  She was a young girl, trapped in a male body for much of her life, and remembers feeling this way at the early age of three.

This week was eye-opening because I learned so much about transgender issues through the story of one person.  I got to meet her in person on Thursday, sharing pizza and discussion, and then listening to her lecture later that day.  What amazes me the most about her story is that she lived most her life as a man haunted by the wish to be a woman. 

She married and had two boys before, at the age of 40, beginning the process of transitioning into a female body...and her heterosexual wife is still with her today. Her wife (named "Grace" in her book) is with her through every step of the process, and although there are times of utter frustration and heartache, they share a life together, raising two boys who equally love their "Maddie" (a term they coined as young boys, combining "mommy" and "daddy").  If their family is not a prime example of love, I'm not sure what is.  And what touched me the most about her lecture was when she pointed out that many people may feel that their relationship is "weird," but how many other relationships/marriages are filled with abuse and neglect, etc.? Yet Jennifer and Grace's love is unconditional, which is more than a lot of people can say for their own relationships (I wish I could remember exactly how she said it, because it was much more eloquent than that).

So, I wanted to share this experience with you - my own "transition," if you will - and suggest that when you go into something close-minded, you may very well come out on the other side changed, with wide eyes open, as I have this week.  It's extremely easy to judge because of ignorance and misunderstanding, but as Jennifer's Christian mother (who she says is her #1 fan) pointed out,


"You can't hate someone when you've heard their story."

Monday, 7 May 2012

Studying = Attention = Better Prayer

Academic work is one of those fields containing a pearl so precious that it is worthwhile to sell all our possessions, keeping nothing for ourselves, in order to be able to acquire it.  - - Simone Weil

I first read about Simone Weil's concept in this blog post called "Simone Weil on Study and Prayer."  I have since read the essay this blogger refers to, which comes from Weil's work Waiting for God.  To provide some biographical and historical context, "Weil was born in Paris and died in Ashford, England.  [She was a] religious philosopher, essayist, dramatist, and poet, as well as social critic and political activist."*
Source
In her essay, "Reflections on the Right Use of School Studies with a View to the Love of God," she contemplates how 'school studies' and 'academic work,' when done attentively, can "increase the power of attention with a view to prayer" (59).  This is certainly good news for those of us who spend most of our time reading and studying for school.  I oftentimes feel quite guilty reading literature and feminist theory rather than spending that time reading the Bible or devotions.  But, I don't think Weil is saying that's not important either; rather, she makes room for the notion that "in every school exercise there is a special way of waiting upon truth, setting our hearts upon it, yet not allowing ourselves to go out in search of it" (63).

What I found most interesting about this short essay, was her assertion that we should "contemplate attentively and slowly each school task in which we have failed, seeing how unpleasing and second rate it is, without seeking any excuse or overlooking any mistake. . . trying to get down to the origin of each fault" (60).  In this way, she adds, it is "perhaps even more useful to contemplate our stupidity than our sin" (60).  Furthermore, "when we force ourselves to fix the gaze, not only of our eyes but of our souls, upon a school exercise in which we have failed through sheer stupidity, a sense of our mediocrity is borne in upon us with irresistible evidence" (60).

It's interesting to read her commentary on the difference between those who have chosen academia as their field of interest and those who have not (but we must consider her historical context here):

"Happy are those who pass their adolescence and youth in developing this power of attention.  No doubt they are no nearer the goodness than their brothers [and sisters] working in fields and factories.  They are near in a different way. . . [W]orkmen [and women] possess a nearness to God of incomparable savor which is found in the depths of poverty, in the absence of social consideration and in the endurance of long drawn-out sufferings" (64).

Lastly, I appreciated her connection of academic studies to loving thy neighbor: "paradoxical as it may seem, a Latin prose or a geometry problem, even though they are done wrong, may be of great service one day, provided we devote the right kind of effort [and attention] to them.  Should the occasion arise, they can one day make us better able to give someone in affliction the help required to save him, at the supreme moment of need" (65).  This might seem an unlikely connection, but she argues that loving thy neighbor "means being able to say to him [or her]: 'What are you going through?'. . . this way of looking is first of all attentive.  The soul empties itself of all its own contents in order to receive into itself the being it is looking at, just as he is, in all his truth.  Only he who is capable of attention can do this" (64-5).

Right now, for some of us, our school work and academic year is drawing to a close.  We've given our attention to school work and study, some of which we might not have understood or seen as helpful.  But if we remember Weil's analysis in these moments of struggle in academic work, we can learn to be more attentive, prayerful, and loving to those around us.

*Back cover of Waiting for God

Sunday, 6 May 2012

Black Feminist Thought and The Help

Not too long ago I wrote a post called "Wrestling with The Help," realizing and contemplating the ways the film and book have been critiqued by the black community.  I have since continued thinking and 'wrestling' with it, and talking with others about their opinions.  What follows is a response for my feminist theory class, one that I wrote after reading Patricia Hill Collins' "The Politics of Black Feminist Thought" and several other articles concerning Black Feminist Theory.  Since there was such a great discussion that followed my last post on The Help, I thought I'd share this response for further conversation. . .

While reading Patricia Hill Collins’ piece “The Politics of Black Feminist Thought,” I was reminded of the recent controversy over Katherine Stockett’s book The Help and the movie released last August. The book and film depict, through a particular perspective, racism of Jackson, Mississippi during the early 1960s. Skeeter, a young white woman has just returned home from college and begins writing the stories of “the help,” hoping to become a ‘serious’ writer. Aibileen and Minnie are two of the black domestics who share their stories of raising white children and experiencing the oppressive roles as hired domestics, working for small wages and little respect.

As a young white woman myself, I read the book and watched the film, touched at the depiction of the black women caring for the white children like they are their own; for me, Aibileen is the real protagonist. I thought, naively, that the film and book had both portrayed the story of these women in a historically accurate way. However, I started reading articles and blog posts arguing that The Help depicted unrealistic and nostalgic images of the real race issues in the 1960s south, and I began to see that the black community was not nearly as receptive as the white community.

It soon became eerily reminiscent of what Collins asserts as “[s]uppressing the knowledge produced by any oppressed group mak[ing] it easier for dominant groups to rule because the seeming absence of an independent consciousness in the oppressed can be taken to mean that subordinate groups willingly collaborate in their own victimization” (52). I began to worry that the book and film did not fully articulate the complex intersectionality; instead as Trina Grillo writes, “sometimes the governing paradigms which have structured all or our lives are so powerful that we can think we are doing progressive work, dismantling the structures of racism and other oppressions, when in fact we are reinforcing the paradigms” (30). In other words, I started wondering whether The Help was dismantling or reinforcing racism and the oppression of domestic workers.

I watched a segment about The Help on Melissa Harris-Perry’s show on MSNBC, called “The Help doesn’t ‘help’ domestic workers.” Harris-Perry and guests’ criticisms of the film connect to Collins’ discussion of the “suppression of black feminist thought,” which “has been structured along three interdependent dimensions” (53). These dimensions include women’s labor, political mistreatment, and “the controlling images of Black women” (53). The controversy over The Help touches on two of these three dimensions specifically – women’s labor and the stereotypical images of Black women.

Source
First, Collins writes, “the exploitation of Black women’s labor – the ‘iron pots and kettles’ symbolizing Black women’s longstanding ghettoization in service occupations – represents the economic dimension of oppression” (53). One of the arguments against the film and book is that it only depicts Black women as domestics, unable to do anything else other than clean, cook, and take care of white babies. While this might be a historically accurate depiction of the south in the 1960s, it is perhaps one reason why the black community was so angry with the book and film; it is a contemporary depiction of women in exploitative roles that are represented in a somewhat nostalgic way.

Another dimension the controversy touched on – as well as Melissa Harris-Perry’s segment – is the “nexus of negative stereotypical images applied to African-American women” (53). Collins writes, “From the mammies, Jezebels, and breeder women of slavery to the smiling Aunt Jemimas on pancake mix boxes, ubiquitous Black prostitutes and ever-present welfare mothers of contemporary popular culture [these] negative [...] images [...] have been fundamental to Black women’s oppression” (53). Harris-Perry specifically mentions the danger of the depiction of black women in The Help, similar to what Collins asserts, as a way “to keep African-American women in an assigned, subordinate place” (53).
Source
To articulate this connection of the women’s roles in The Help and the dangerous stereotypical images connected to slavery, Harris-Perry suggested that viewers not only read the book and watch the film to form their own opinions, but also read Clinging to Mammy: The Faithful Slave in 20th Century America, by University of Connecticut professor Micki McElya, who argues, “Assertions of black people's contentment with servitude alleviated white fears while reinforcing racial hierarchy” (Google Books). Collins also mentions this reinforcement of hierarchy in her article: “Black women’s exclusion from positions of power within mainstream institutions has led to the elevation of elite white male ideas and interests and the corresponding suppression of Black women’s ideas and interests...” (53).

What I’ve learned as a young white woman after reading The Help, criticisms of the book and film, and Collins’ piece is that we must be receptive of these issues and how they might differ based on our own identities and experiences. Because members of the black community feel that The Help is a contemporary example of “economic exploitation” for Black women and a continuation of “negative stereotypes,” we must openly try to understand these arguments and why they are important in shaping and affecting our current culture and society.

Still, I see where the film and book can point out – even in small ways – the very injustices the black community wishes to bring to light. For example, in the film Skeeter tells her editor, “These colored women raise white children and in twenty years those children become the boss. We love them and they love us, but they can’t even use the toilets in our houses...” (The Help). Even though the film does have its many flaws and historical inaccuracies, I find moments like this, pointing to Maria Stewart’s own “object[ion] to the injustice of this situation: ‘We have pursued in shadow, they have obtained the substance; we have performed the labor, they have received the profits; we have planted the vines, they have eaten the fruits of them’” (qtd. in Collins 51). The lines from the film also point to what Collins calls Black women’s roles as “outsiders-within,” which “allowed African-American women to see the white elites [...from] a special Black women’s perspective” (56). Though The Help has its many flaws, and as a white woman I cannot fully understand, I can see how it can become a useful place for conversation about important race, class, and gender issues.

Wednesday, 4 April 2012

Rooms Apart: Talking About ROOM

Today, my good friend and fellow blogger, Lindsey and I sat down together (on our computers in separate states) and discussed Emma Donoghue's Room.  Our original intentions had been to post the conversation on both our blogs, but once I read her post I really thought there was absolutely nothing left to add - she did a fabulous job introducing our discussion and the book itself.

So before I direct you to her post, I want to give her an introduction, like she did so well for me.  Lindsey graduated in May 2011 with a masters' degree in Humanities and Sciences from Fordham University in New York City; she attended Cornerstone University in Grand Rapids, Michigan for her undergrad.  As she notes in her post we met during a study-abroad program in Oxford when we were both in college, and became instant friends from the moment we met at the airport in London.  Since then we started writing letters every few months (yes, the ones with stamps) and have since kept up a more 'virtual' relationship on our blogs and Facebook.  I also currently live in the same city as her sister (small world, I know!) so we've been able to meet in person several times during the last couple of years! She included a picture of us on her post and so I just had to do the same!

Lindsey and me waiting for our bus to take us back to the airport - our last morning in Oxford :(




And now I'll direct you to her lovely post - Conversations with a Friend: The Challenges of Living Outside ROOM - enjoy!!

Tuesday, 27 March 2012

.our bully society.

Bullying has been on my mind lately...

There's a new book out I'd like to read, called The Bully Society: School Shootings and the Crisis of Bullying in America's Schools by Jessie Clein.  The Women's Media Center included a piece discussing the book's focus on the impact of gender and sexuality on bullying situations.  MS Magazine also included a recent piece on the many different programs working toward ending bullying in middle and high schools.  Cartoon Network and others have sponsored a Speak Up campaign against bullying.  And today a friend on Facebook shared this NYTimes article about a new documentary coming out this Friday called Bully. Basically, I've been seeing this topic everywhere I look!



I couldn't agree more with Clein's assertion:


"Our children need a compassionate school community to counter these despairing trends. Keeping discussions about gender and sexuality out of schools reinforces isolation and cements our schools’ bully society. Even schools that take bullying seriously often miss the connection to gender. They may punish the bullies and throw one after another out of school, but they leave the culture of sexual harassment and bullying firmly intact. Schools can and should instead become leaders that change these hostile conditions. Doing nothing means students fend for themselves; and that’s why so many choose violence. One-day workshops and after-school programs do little to change our schools’ culture of hostility."

Because this has been on my mind lately, and because I continue to be reminded thanks to the media and many others that bullying is such a huge issue, I'm thinking of doing a related community outreach as a project for the Feminist Theory class I'm taking this quarter.  As an option our professor is letting us choose a topic/problem that relates to feminism/women's studies and try to create a related community service project.

I was reminded as I read these articles and thought about a future prospective project, of my students in my English 102 classes; both times I taught it I've had several people write papers on bullying and cyberbullying.  Most all of these students wrote about it because they were victims of it sometime during middle or high school (it's still a problem that's close to them and that they wish to combat as freshmen in college). I was a witness to some of their 'stories of bravery' as they shared them in their short argument reflections.  This past quarter, similar to my Women's Studies professor, I gave students the option of writing a letter to someone about their topic or doing a 'pocket-size' service project that related to their topic in some way. One girl who chose cyberbullying as her topic wrote a letter to her high school, advocating for more actions to be taken against cyberbullying: teacher-led workshops, a counselor on campus for students to talk to.  Another girl chose to do a small service project by signing a pledge on Stand Together and sharing her number on her social networking sites; she said many of her friends joined her in the pledge against bullying - - I thought this was so exciting for her; she saw that in taking this seemingly small stand, she became more than just a number!

As Clein suggests, as teachers we have an obligation to create a dialogue with students to "help them creat[e] friendships based on trust rather than social climbing and clawing. Instead of more punishment and increasing suspension rates—another form of social exclusion—conflict needs to become an opportunity for teaching where students learn to stand up for one anotherrefrain from vilifying others, and learn ways to appreciate, support, and help everyone in their community."  But, sadly, as Clein and the NYTimes article both suggest, "cruelty is embedded in our schools and therefore in our society as a whole."

Perhaps the best way to combat this growing problem is by providing a place for sharing our stories, making them our own, and becoming people who've overcome rather than people made into victims.  The Born This Way Foundation has a mission of 'inspiring bravery,' and has created a place for people to share their 'stories of bravery,' personal experiences with bullies.  I think this is one very helpful way to put an end to bullying, by sharing those stories with others and having people listen.  I shared some of my own stories in part of a memoir I wrote for a feminist memoir class, and I can't tell you how good it felt sharing those stories, making them my own.  Similar to my students who shared their stories with me, I was glad to have witnesses to these events (I might get up the courage to share them on here sometime).  If more of us understand that we've gone through these experiences, we might find a better way to combat the issue and understand the underlying problems.

Sunday, 25 March 2012

.What is 'Appalachia?': Reflections on District 12.

I read the first book of The Hunger Games trilogy over Christmas break, and I hope to read the other two this summer.  My husband knows the entire synopsis of the series thanks to the internet, but I want to wait and read the books.  This weekend we went to the see the film in theaters twice (yes, twice...not necessarily because we wanted to see it that bad, but because the first time we watched it the teenagers around us wouldn't stop whispering.  I would've liked to have taken a poll of that first audience to see how many people had seen it already.  There's no way that many people wanted to see it and yet talked through most of the film.  But I digress...)

Since I don't know the whole story and I read the first book several months ago, the opinions that follow are solely based on the film adaptation, and they're merely the musings of an Appalachian, reflecting on the role and representation of Appalachia in the film.  Basically, I'm wondering what it really means to be 'Appalachian' today, and what others outside the region and culture seem to think it means.  Part of the reason I'm thinking about this is because of the keynote speaker at the Appalachian Studies Conference Scott and I attended this past weekend (related post coming soon).  Si Kahn, an activist, writer, and musician, posed these two questions to the audience: (1) What does it mean to be 'Appalachian' right now? (2) How do we suspect this will change in the next 50 years?

With those questions in mind, I turn now to the representation of District 12 (culturally and geographically located in Appalachia) in the film.  I think it's interesting that the film-makers (and Suzanne Collins herself) chose to depict District 12 in such a way that makes one think of the turn-of-the-century rather than 50 years in the future.  I'm wondering if audiences think that Appalachian people still go around hunting in the woods for food, bartering and trading, and making their own clothes, because I'm here to tell you, they don't.  I'm sure this is no surprise, but when my husband and I moved outside Appalachia (the area of Ohio where we currently reside is outside the geographic definition of 'Appalachia' according to the ARC) people didn't look at us and automatically guess we were Appalachians (they figured that out when we opened our mouths and started talking with our 'mountain' accents, which I might add the film did not represent - my husband was actually pretty disappointed they didn't).

No, Appalachians today are not much different from anyone else thanks mainly to technology, the media, and Wal-Mart.  Yes, our ancestors might have differed significantly from people in other regions of America, but we carry cellphones, watch 16 and Pregnant, tweet and use Facebook just like anyone else.  We wear the same clothes from Abercrombie and Hollister and Gap, and we drive Hondas and BMWs just like anyone else. This discussion goes back to the assignment I created for my ENG 102 students in my Appalachian-themed class: how has modern technology and media impacted our sense of place?

Getting back to the film, if you haven't seen it I'm not giving anything away by providing these pictures from District 12 (I already posted a couple of these on a previous post).  What do we see?











To me, these pictures look like we've taken a few steps back in history, and perhaps this is because of the rest of the story (what I've not read yet).  Maybe in the destruction of America as we know it now, people adapted to a new way of life.  Living in the mountains might have meant going back to the 'old ways' of living off the land, making do with what you had, similar to our great-grandparents.  If you're an oppressed people lacking in resources, I'd say that would be the smartest thing to do.  (Side note: when they showed the miners in District 12, I was reminded of my great-grandfather who carried that same kind of silver lunch pail everyday to work, not my dad who currently works for a coal company, and I definitely didn't think of some futuristic way of mining coal...the clock, to me, appeared to have gone backwards several decades).

Yes, there are places in Appalachia that still look not a year over 1950 (the film took place in an abandoned mill town in North Carolina) but most of the people (and I qualify saying 'most') don't barter for goods, don't make their own clothes, and don't go around covered in dirt and grime.  And we certainly don't take baths in old washtubs like Katniss does before the Reaping.

I'm not at all criticizing the film, the film-makers, or the author for representing Appalachia in this way.  My mom told me she didn't really appreciate the way they depicted us, and I have to say while I was watching the film, I didn't really take note of it.  Instead, I was proud that Katniss came from District 12.  She's smart, strong, and compassionate, and these traits have a great deal to do with where she comes from.

The film's representation of Appalachia brings us to an interesting discussion of how the film-makers might have otherwise distinguished and represented Appalachia if they hadn't gone back to our ancestral roots, back to the small mining towns, coal dust-covered streets, and simple, practical wardrobe (I was sometimes reminded of October Sky, although District 12 is much poorer, and again, October Sky was set in the past not the future).  What distinguishes us as Appalachians today? Merely our accents? The stereotypes that continue to represent our people?  It's definitely something to think about: how will our children think of Appalachia?  Will we be any different than anyone else in America? And is this a positive, negative, or a little of both?  There's no doubt we come from and still share a rich culture, but do we still embrace it?

No conclusions here...like I said, just some musings.  Any thoughts?