Because “Unpacking” is so short, I am going to be leaving this open and coming back to it while I read. We’ve been a little behind in our reading — no doubt due to Starhawk and her amazing work, The Spiral Dance, which is so captivating that it pushes aside all else — so I’m trying to get through this one today, so that I can start on Twilight next.

This line, at the very beginning of “Unpacking”, explains a lot about my knowledge — or lack thereof — of racism:

As a white person, I realized I had been taught about racism as something that puts others at a disadvantage, but had been taught not to see one of its corollary aspects, white privilege, which puts me at an advantage. I think whites are carefully taught not to recognize white privilege, as males are taught not to recognize male privilege.

Indeed. When learning about racism in school? That’s how it was taught to me — as something that disadvantages others, but not as something that privileged me. It is only in recent years that I really understand this. Thinking of my privilege as a little knapsack I putter around with is an amusing, but fitting, image for me.

What follows in the essay is a numbered list of privileges that are unearned and based only on skin colour. As I read through it, I think about how many of them are things I never think about. Ever. Doing well and not being called a credit to my race, for example. Or never being asked to speak for all members of my racial group. Being able to talk with my mouth full?

Some of them I am more keenly aware of, such as being able to easily buy postcards, magazines, dolls, children’s toys and so on that feature people of my race, or knowing that if I ask to speak to a supervisor it is likely I will be speaking to someone of my own race. Being able to choose blemish concealer or bandages in “flesh” colour and having them more or less match my skin tone. A big one is being able to worry about racism without being seen as self-interested because it ties into the next thing I have to say…:

And some, I realize as I am reading, I thought were the other way around. “If I declare,” McIntosh writes, “that there is a racial issue at hand, or there isn’t a racial issue at hand, my race will lend me more credibility for either position than a person of colour will have”. I have felt that, as a white person, and because of my privilege, those of colour would have more credibility when it came to racism than I would. But I realize that if I am the one who says, “that is racist”, people are more likely to take me seriously. How many times have I heard others saying something about how such and such black person said something was racist in a manner that was dismissive? Lots. The idea of having more credibility, even though I surely have less personal experience with this matters, is something I really am going to have to think about more.

The final section is marked, for me, by the statement that many people do not see whiteness as a racial identity. Many white people therefore think that racism doesn’t affect them.

In my class and place, I did not see myself as a racist because I was taught to recognize racism only in individual acts of meanness by members of my group, never in invisible systems conferring  unsought racial dominance on my group from birth. Disapproving of the system won’t be enough to change them. I was taught to think that racism could end if white individuals changed their attitude. But a “white” skin in the United States opens many doors for whites whether or not we approve of the way dominance has been conferred on us. Individual acts can palliate, but cannot end, these problems.

What we will do with such knowledge? she writes, in the end. Will we choose to use our unearned privilege? Can we avoid using it? How can we reconstruct these systems? I don’t have any answers, not yet. But these are important questions to think about. What can I do? What should I do?

I agree with Minako’s assessment that the authors of Manifesta write a bit too much about Ms. to the point where I feel like skipping over material at times.

I took pretty great displeasure at reading this in particular, however:

“Because Ms. is so dedicated to nonsexist language, it always misses the boat on slang and will sacrifice the flow, ease, and punch line of a sentence in order to expunge potential sexism. (You can’t spell blond “blonde,” you can’t use the phrase “the blind leading the blind,” and so on.)”

I’m having a real tough time swallowing this, as well as the usage of the verb “bitch” further up on the same page to refer to complaints from radical feminists, among other similar word usages peppered in the text. Do the authors really feel it’s more important to have zingy sentences that use the cultural narratives of those words to reinforce their points—as well as reinforce the power of those words themselves—instead of just, you know, not doing that and being sensitive and inclusive?

Looking at the above quote in context, the impression I got was that they felt Ms. should use “slang” in order to not be “dry, humourless, [and] dogmatic,” even if that means using disparaging terms. It makes me consider who, exactly, the authors have in mind when considering the readership of both Ms. and their own book.

This seems counter to my previous post: we’re all in this together, so why the hell would you value the impact of your writing on people with privilege over the effects that same writing would have on the unprivileged?

The rest of Manifesta is great so far, but this was something that really made me go, “WAIT WHAT.” Do not want, please.

“To be a feminist is to join in my sisterhood with women when often we are divided.”

This is a sentiment I see expressed periodically in my feminist studies and reading, but it didn’t fully reach me until I read this particular quote from Rebecca Walker on page 77.

I am someone with very few women friends, and even in my interactions with most women, I have an intense feeling of competition. It’s something that works at a visceral, gut level, and I know it’s from messages I have internalized throughout my life. I also know that a lot of women in my culture generally have similar feelings. It’s something I’m still trying to unpack and dissect and work through, but implicit in the above quote is that among feminists, among women, we should be showing solidarity with one another even—and perhaps especially—when we don’t agree.

We should be sharing our stories and our experiences with one another, and especially listening to each other. We should be realizing we’re all in this together, in all of our myriad, intersecting ways that we experience oppression. I carry a lot of my own privileges—I would never even know I had these privileges were it not for people sharing their stories and experiences. This is why I think it’s especially important for all of us to tell our own stories and to listen to one another.

These feelings of competition and distance seem almost especially tailored as a way to maintain the kyriarchy, and I think this is something I am going to continue to explore about myself. I think viewing and interacting with my sisters as sisters instead of competitors or even enemies is an incredibly subversive act that I would like to partake in fully.

So! “Unpacking the Knapsack” is an essay, and it shouldn’t take long to get through, which means Twilight is fast approaching. I actually think this will be a really good exercise.

So, okay. To sum up: hated how much Ms. plugging there was, loved how much history they provided. Think that the aforementioned plugging has mostly to do with their personal experiences, therefore find it more forgivable, but must admit that still found it annoying.

Moving on! I loved, loved, loved how much Jennifer & Amy covered when it comes to the backstory of feminism. This, I think, is probably the most important thing about Manifesta. It does not present any new ideas to the reader, if the reader is not new to feminist thought. It is not really revolutionary, it is not thought-provoking in a, “wow, I never thought of that before!” way — but it IS full of the spirit of feminism. It is a relatively easy to read primer to the history of the movement, and it helps to break down the differences between First and Second and Third wave feminism, as well as going into different sub-categories like Riot Grrrl. Did you know about the ERA (Equal Rights Amendment), and how it never passed? I didn’t. I do now. It’s also rich with titles in case the reader is looking for more feminist literature. They also cover the problems of feminists not calling themselves feminists — in fact, this article really reminded me of passages in the book.

Their slant of “we need to all get along, gals” is also refreshing. Too often, when reading blogs and so-on, there seems to be this… mmm, this sort of cat-fight problem in feminism, where some people are anti-sex work and some are pro- and some think if you wear the miniskirt you are deluded and it all becomes this thing. Jennifer & Amy’s book is genuinely vested in going beyond that, into what is good about each view and why we need to work together.

I am one of those girls who has a extreme and deep love for bands like Bikini Kill and Bratmobile. For me, Riot Grrrl — and political punk music in general — was this huge thing, this powerful discovery I made that started me on the road to actually thinking about political and social issues. Reading the history of that particular subculture bit was probably my favourite part of Manifesta.

Unlike Wolf’s Give Me Liberty, which left me feeling so horrifically “why bother” at the end, Manifesta leaves the reader with a really inspired, “I can do it!” attitude. The authors give a long appendix of contact information for various organizations, they have a section just on activism and who can do what, where, and how. This is probably my second-favourite part about this book.

I wanted to blog using quotes from the book, but my little sister has already made off with my copy — she is plowing through my bookshelves with a zeal that rivals a football fan — so that will have to be edited in.

homophobia, sexist remarks, fat talk, racist remarks, people condoning a man’s violence, and the normativity of Christianity & all Christian holidays.

i dislike all these things.

i will be back to discuss manifesta later. i am going to refrain from blogging about it until i finish it except to say: i wish they talked about Ms. a little less~!

http://scienceblogs.com/thusspakezuska/2010/03/the_arts_as_a_healing_balm_for.php

also When God Was a Woman by Merlin Stone seems like one we might enjoy.

It’s not from a lack of wanting! I just find myself so strapped for time the past few weeks. Oh life: can you stop being so busy?

Voting is one of the core rights of a democracy. It’s one of the founding rights that makes a democracy a democracy. It has also been one of the core rights that have been denied over the centuries of democracy’s history to disenfranchise bodies from power. It has been one of the most obvious and easily used tools to make it clear that a people are considered less and that their opinion and say has no merit, a way to establish who has a right to lead, who has a right to question the leaders and who were silenced and controlled.

Voting, therefore, is an essential right, a foundation right, a right on which our societies very precariously rest upon. It is also, sadly, one of those rights that have been abused most mightily by those wishing to oppress others.

The gist is: things suck, and the only way to make them not suck is to do something about it yourself.

I get that, I do. I just don’t even know how to compose my thoughts at present.