Moore and Me

I just stepped on my own post, but I just saw this poem here and had to reprint it because it cuts to the very heart of why women are upset with Michael Moore and Keith Olbermann right now:

 

Rape Poem
by Marge Piercy
There is no difference between being raped
And being pushed down a flight of cement steps
Except that the wounds also bleed inside. There is no difference between being raped
And being run over by a truck
Except that afterward men ask if you enjoyed it.
There is no difference between being raped
And being bit on the ankle by a rattlesnake
Except that people ask if your skirt was short
And why you were out anyhow.
There is no difference between being raped
And going head first through a windshield
Except that afterward you are afraid not of cars,
But half the human race.
The rapist is your boyfriend’s brother.
He sits beside you in the movies eating popcorn.
Rape fattens on the fantasies of the “normal” male
Like a maggot in garbage.
Fear of rape is a cold wind blowing
All of the time on a woman’s hunched back.
Never to stroll alone on a sand road through pine woods,
Never to climb a trail across a bald
Without that aluminum in the mouth
When I see a man climbing toward me.
Never to open the door to a knock
Without that razor just grazing the throat.
The fear of the dark side of the hedges,
The back seat of the car, the empty house
Rattling keys like a snake’s warning
The fear of the smiling man
in whose pocket is a knife.
The fear of the serious man
In whose fist is locked with hatred.
All it takes to cast a rapist is seeing your body
As jackhammer, as blowtorch, as machine gun.
All it takes is hating that body
Your own, your self, your muscle that softens to flab.
All it takes is to push what you hate,
What you fear onto the soft alien flesh.
To bucket out invincible as a tank
Armoured with treads without senses
To possess and punish in one act,
To rip up pleasure, to murder those who dare
Live in the leafy flesh open to love. The fear of the smiling man
In whose pocket is a knife.

Dad gets another lesson in feminism: on raising strong daughters

Talking with my dad allows me to say some things kids and parents normally don't have a chance to say to one another unless one of them is on a deathbed.  So today, I told him how his and mom's messages about our bodies basically created some of the issues my sister and I have with intimacy.  And his brain exploded.

"What did you expect, Dad?" I said. "We grew up in a religiously strict Baptist home, we were taught Satan was real, we were going to hell if we touched ourselves, our bodies were dirty, sex was bad and that boys were rapists. So, yeah - we're gonna have some issues with men when we grow up!"

"Ahhh, well. I don't know," he stammered. "I don't know if I agree with all of that. But we can talk about that later."

"Dad, L- and I still talk about how traumatized we were when you told us about sex. It was graphic!"

"I was just trying to protect you from the little knuckleheads down the street!"

"We were eight! Don't tell us about being snatched off the streets, thrown on a dirty mattress in a van and having some little boy put their fingers in our bodies! That was terrifying!"

"I was being a father! We lived in South Central - not some fairy land."

"Well, congratulations, Dad! You told us our bodies were fodder for rapists - who, apparently, lived down the street, went to school with us and walked the sidewalks! Nice going." I said. "We were EIGHT!  Dude, didn't anyone back then read books about child development? Didn't you guys have Good Touch/Bad Touch?"

"What's that mess?"

And so on.

Anyway, things are not going well with my sister's marriage; she has admitted to Dad that she has hated how men look at her, which has prompted Dad to ask where her attitude comes from.

"Are you kidding me?"

"I'm serious, Delia Christina. I don't understand it."

I tried to explain what it's like growing up a girl where you're taught that Bad Things will happen to you because of what's between your legs, how this reduces a girl to an object and tells her that SHE is the cause for a man's violence and perversion; but he didn't get it, quite.

So I said, "You raised us to be afraid, not strong. See the difference?"

My sister and I heard the same messages growing up. But I know what made the difference for me. Feminism. If that kind of awakening hadn't happened to me, I would still be struggling with my body, my value, my worth. I know that I've had a reputation for being a ball-busting man-hater, but I'd rather be a so-called man-hater than a woman afraid of her own body and desire.

But this, I think, is the conundrum of raising daughters. If you know that this patriarchal world is full of violence against women and girls (which it is, in horrible, horrific ways) then how do you prepare your daughter to face it? And then, how do you raise them to face it without making them afraid of themselves, of their bodies - how do you raise a daughter to be without shame?

Mothers and fathers raising daughters, I'd love to hear from you on this one.

silence.

"the police threw a “flash bang” through the front window. it blinded everyone inside; it lit aiyana on fire.


the news reported a tussle with the grandmother, during which the firearm discharged. everyone in the family says there was no tussle, that the grandmother was throwing herself over the baby when aiyana was shot in the head.


what do you call the blinded, terrified groping of a grandmother who knows her grandchildren are in the room, blasted from safety and sleep into chaos and danger, whose granddaughter is on fire? how do you comfort a man like aiyana’s father, which was forced to lie face down in his daughter’s blood by the same police officers who killed her?


the police shot and killed aiyana. they shot her in the forehead. her family saw her brain on the couch. by accident, perhaps. which doesn’t even matter to a 7-year-old. you don’t get let off any hooks for your intentions in this case, officer." (source)

I want all of us to think about how often these 'accidents' happen.
I want all of us to think about where these 'accidents' happen.

Because they aren't happening in New Trier.
They aren't happening in Westwood.

Then I want you to think about those to whom these 'accidents' occur.

And that's all I want you to do.  Think.
No talk. No discussion.

Because I am too goddamn angry to say another word about this.

Holy Week and the Hutaree

I spent the morning in bed with M- on Palm Sunday so I watched The Greatest Story Ever Told, instead; I had quite a good time being reminded of the simplicity of my faith: love your neighbor as yourself and do unto others as you would have them do unto you. Simple. In the horrific ideology of the Hutaree (and militias like them) where is Love Your Neighbor? Where is Do Unto Others? If this is the greatest commandment, then why is it so easily trumped by guns, violence and murder?

I blame Christian comics.  What a world.  They'd take contemporary characters (like Archie) and use them to tell Christian stories and morality.  I read things like The Cross and the Switchblade or 1970s retellings of the Prodigal Son (so groovy!).  But the best one?  The one I remember the most and which laid the foundation for me becoming the Bible Answer Girl in my Saturday Bible class?  This one.

The Revelation is like Ray Bradbury and Richard Matheson dropped acid and then took Ecstasy and then maybe dropped into a huge K-hole.  And I, like every fundamentalist kid in America, swallowed every psychedelic drop. 

(Note: the comics about demon possession were even more awesome than the ones about the Rapture.)

And it's this version of Christianity and the 'end times' that Christian militias either want to catalyze or hope for.  (Clearly, however, something was lost in translation. If the Hutaree are believers, wouldn't they be snatched up in the Rapture? So who are they training to fight against if they aren't going to be here when the battle happens?)

The point is: none of this makes sense. The story of The End Times is a fascinating story for a kid to read.  It's the best comic book ever.  But with adult eyes, it has no relationship to the words and precepts of Christ that I actually believe. 

Because this is Holy Week, I'm supposed to contemplate the submission of Christ to His destiny, the cross.  Like a good Christian, I'm to sit in the dark on Maundy Thursday and feel the weight of His death - and look forward to the final celebration of His resurrection on Easter. With the resurrection, the commandment to love one another is eternal. This is the cycle that gives Christianity its meaning.

Not the crazy last chapter.

the world needs meds

what the HELL is going on out there?

if the actual shooting at Fort Hood wasn't bad enough, the growing cacophony of anti-Muslim/Islam hysteria is about to eclipse it. on Twitter someone asked for the over/under for FOX News calling for the immediate segregation of all Muslims by Tuesday. why no link? it's unnecessary; just click on any comments section of *any* online newspaper or blog, liberal or conservative.

(frankly, i think the real story here is about mental health support, or lack of it, in the military but that's just me.)

then there's a second shooting today in Orlando and the difference in coverage is freaking startling (no instant speculation about race, ethnicity or religion - just 'crazy workplace shooter' narrative.)

question: why not treat the Fort Hood shootings like any other workplace violence story? or like a random school shooting?

and then the stupid ish i read in The Root huffing all insulted that the actress from Precious has the *nerve* to be all unashamed of her body?! (she must be mentally ill, The Root says. we're all caving to the PC gods if we don't shame her about her weight, The Root says. i say shut the frak up to The Root.)

makes me wanna holler or at least eat some bicuits and gravy. (i've missed lunch, too.)

it's a humdinger of a friday, folks.

carry on, if you can.

pigs

...and from the soft squishy feelings of best friend-hood, we go to another instance of police brutality against a teenaged black girl.

what. the. fuck.

cops!: some helpful tips

i don't think i'm the only one who gets a little bit more skeeved out when the cops are around.
it could be the loaded gun, the knowledge that they could flip out/have a flashback at any moment, my natural suspicion of state authority, or just my natural aversion to cold eyed dudes in uniform.

but it's helpful to keep one's cool when in the presence of the law. one can't always rely on one's sweet looks or big vocabulary. folks will say that this just makes civilian/cop interaction needlessly adversarial. i say it's forcing them to do their jobs correctly.

they take shortcuts because we (the general public) allow them to take shortcuts.

via the ella baker center for human rights some advice (which i am going to snatch whole):

If the Police Stop You...
Stay in control of your emotions and words. Don’t physically resist.
Keep your hands visible.
Remain silent. They have guns, pepper spray and billy clubs. Your strongest weapon is your mind.
The less you say, the better. Silence is not a crime.
Ask, "Am I free to go?" If they keep you, you are being detained.
Ask, "Why are you detaining me?" To detain you, the police must have concrete reasons to suspect your involvement in a specific crime.
If you’re detained, show ID. If you don’t, they can hold you for three days to ID you.

or Try to Search You...
Never consent to a search.
Say loud and clear (especially if there are any witnesses present): "I do not consent to a search."
Don’t resist physically.
Don’t open your bag for them. It will count as consent to the search.
Police may 'pat down' your clothing if they suspect weapons or drugs.

or Try to Enter Your Home...
Never consent to a search.
Step outside. Lock the door behind you.
Ask to see a warrant. Make sure it has the right information (e.g., address) and a judge’s signature.
They can do only what the warrant allows them to. Warrants often limit the search to one room, one day, etc. Make sure they are complying with the warrant.

or Stop You in Your Car...
Stay calm. Again, you do not have to answer any questions.
When they ask you, show them your driver’s license, registration, and proof of insurance.
Tell the officer, "I do not consent to a search."
Don’t open your trunk or car door. It will count as consent to a search of you and your property.
If they give you a ticket, sign it. Otherwise you can be arrested. Fight the ticket in court later.
If the police suspect you of drunk driving and you refuse to take a blood, urine or breath test, your license can be suspended.

If the Police Arrest You...
Do not answer any questions until a lawyer arrives to represent you.
Say only, "I choose to remain silent and I want to talk to my attorney."
The police may handcuff, search, photograph and fingerprint you.
Do not talk about your case to anyone except your attorney.

If You See or Experience Police Brutality
Remain calm.
Write down the details of the incident, badge numbers, and names of witnesses immediately.
Get a medical report immediately, as well as photographs documenting any injuries or property damaged.

Always Be a Witness
Always be a witness for a friend, relative or stranger.
Stop and watch.
Record the officer’s name, badge number, and car number. Write down the time, the place, who said what, and who did what.
If the officer tells you to leave, say, "I have the right to observe from a safe distance." Assure them, "I’m not trying to interfere."

KEY POINTS
Don’t talk to the police. If arrested, say, "I choose to remain silent and I want to talk to my attorney."
Never consent to a search of your person, vehicle, home or property. If the police search you, state loudly, “I do not consent to a search.”
Document and report police misconduct.

who's oscar grant? we are.

for that matter, we are Dymond Milburn and Michael Cho.

sometimes a person gets tired of saying all the things that need to be said.
it's horrific.
it's sad.
it's enraging.
it's awful.
something should be done about it.

yes, something should.
...

what I wrote to a Facebook friend who was trying to make sense of this shooting in the context of Obama's presidency and the upcoming inaugural celebrations:

Race is part of [this shooting] but the larger picture is the
relationship of the State (as represented by the pseudo-militarized arm of
the law) to the Individual. Although people of color are most likely to
experience violence by armed authorities, there's a particular mindset, or
value system, from the State that authorizes control over the individual, in
the interest of the state, that affects all of us, regardless of color. In
other words, the violence of this episode is just a small part of the other
types of violence enacted against populations the State deems undesirable -
based on class, race,sexuality, gender, nationality or religion. The State
is about asserting authority by maintaining its power; Power is about
control over individuals to cow the populace into submission. And that
shooting is about Power run amok.

you're not short-sighted and these two things don't have to be
diametrically opposed at all. which comes first the chicken (State) or the egg
(Racism)? in my view, they each are signs of the other, both supporting the ends
of the other. racism (and all the other associated -isms that go along with it:
colonialism, imperialism,nationalism, jingoism) has been used like a handy tool
by the State/Nation-State to justify genocide, mass murder, mass displacement,
land theft, asset theft, slavery, etc. but on the micro-level, individual
racists have hidden behind the symbols of the state to commit acts of personal
hatred, in the name of the state. so i'd say it's a matter of both/and, not
either/or.
...

in a conversation with my father before i flew back to chicago after christmas we were talking about a family friend's son, his close call with the sherriff's department in Porter Ranch, and what's at play when police are caught abusing their power. two older men, clearly ex-law enforcement, sat next to us while we ate breakfast. (in LA, you can always tell who's been a cop. white or of color, they all have that no bullshit, soldier face, and give off a sense that they can jump off at any moment. they were not pleased at my conversation.)

my father, an ex-LAPD chaplain, is very much on the side of law & order, but lately there have been too many incidents of young black men he knows barely escaping bullshit arrest and beat downs at the hands of police - escaping because of my father's intervention. he was of the mind that race is the primary motivator.

i said, 'it is and it isn't. it's really about the State controlling the individual. race is a convenient narrative for the victim, the media, even the police department to sell but if we're at all honest about how power works and in whose interest, we're all under the boot. white folks think they're safe because they're not black or brown or they live in good neighborhoods and the cops don't shoot them in the street like dogs. bullshit.

you think the police couldn't - wouldn't - lock down LA now the way they did in '92 during the riots? whose interests are protected by all these acts of police brutality? they're hate crimes, created to cow the populace into submission - and it works! we allow them to videotape us, enter our homes without cause, search our cars, surveil our neighborhoods - and we say ok to all of it because they carry a gun and a baton. sure, it's race, but it's about class, sexuality, politics and mostly about suppressing resistance, suppressing criticism. and we let them do it.'

my dad had a funny look on his face. 'girl, where do your ideas come from?'

i rolled my eyes. 'you!'

next to us, the two ex-cops paid their bill, looked hard at me and left.

read more:
the video of Grant's death
Feministe on his execution
BART security are not merely security guards.
M. Dot at Racialicious on how Gran'ts killing haunts them
the Ella Baker Center for Human Rights, and their PoliceWatch initiative, on what can be done about police brutality
Jack&Jill on an incident of being profiled
Ryan Takemiya on Asian solidarity with the black community in the wake of the Grant murder
RaceWire has a few 'take action' recommendations.
Did you know Mukasey moved to strip immigrants of their rights to due process and access to counsel? (this crap is all connected, people)
Womanist Musings on teaching her sons to distrust the police
Richard, at fem.men.ist, connects various dots (including the Greek riots in response to a police shooting) and puts this event in the larger context of international police action against civilians (including what's happening in Gaza.)

what a way to open the year.

asshat: graeme reeves

Clit Bandits: Evil Gyno Graeme Reeves Brutalized 800 Women Before He Got Caught

i think this goes beyond being an 'asshat.' asshat implies that one, if they tried hard enough, could reflect and reform their asshattery.

reeves, however, has transcended basic sexist asshattery and entered a new category: Mutilating Misogynist Mengele.

and the man isn't even in jail! i haven't read anything about charges being brought against him at all! nothing about criminal liability. he's on the run and all those women (one of whom had her labia and clitoris removed against her will) are left without recourse.

what's even more stupefying about this story is the lack of oversight and action. reeves wasn't exactly alone while he was cutting off clitorii, sexually abusing and mutilating women. there were other people in the room who presumably observed and assisted his mutilating surgical procedures. there is currently a 'task force' in place to investigate how reeves could have gotten away with this but i think all you have to do is look around at his coworkers, his nurses, and fellow doctors.

what the military needs: more porn!

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holler

Let’s just cut through the chaff and the chatter and the bull. It’s scary to be a woman. It’s not any scarier than being anything else, but it’s still scary as hell. When you’re a woman, you’re told from the start that you are born with something that will make other people want to harm you or chase you or put you in their car or trap you in a room or put their bodies inside you when you don’t want them to. You’re told that this thing you are, whatever this is you have, means you have to be super careful. You can’t bring the wrong kind of attention to yourself so you can’t be too loud, too friendly, too smart, too dumb, too happy, too sad, too pretty, too ugly, too fat, too hot, too … anything. The desire to act against you begins outside of you but somehow you’re in charge of deflecting it.

Being a woman is scary because you begin as a girl who knows that she’s prey.
…
Today in the lunchroom, a coworker said that they’d found Nailah Franklin’s body in the forest preserve in Calumet. A lump formed in my throat and my coworker’s eyes teared up. The lunchroom was silent while we thought about that beautiful woman’s last moments being at the hands of some fucking violent nutbag. Someone hunted her down and then killed her.

It’s a puzzle why this case should affect me when other missing woman cases haven’t quite. Maybe because it’s a Chicago woman; maybe because she’s black like me. Or was it that, by the black community’s standard of middle class success, she did everything right and I identified with her? Or that her family and friends seemed tight and loving and worried; or that Nailah looked like I could have worked with her or been to school with her or she could have been a friend. Whatever the reason, I felt this sad discovery keener than most.

I felt it because the discovery of this nude female’s body became an emblem of all the other nude female bodies found dumped in dense forest preserves across this country. Right now I’m feeling resigned sort of anger. Resigned because violence against women is a stamp of our DNA; it’s a sad recognition that, across all cultures, ideologies or nationalities, even if men stop making war against one another, they’ll always find time to kill or rape a woman.

Anger because my lizard brain wants to make some guy pay.

How can I explain what it’s like to live with the threat of violence against you?

· It’s like thinking, when you’ve had a particularly bad, nasty, bitter fight with your lover, you should be careful for the next few days just in case he shows up at your office and tries to throw gasoline on you and set you on fire.
· It’s like going on a date and deliberately writing down the guy’s name, phone number, address (which you’ve Googled) and his email address for your friends, just in case you disappear for a few days.
· It’s like being in the middle of making out and randomly thinking, if he tries anything I’ll smash his larynx. And then wondering if you really could.
· It’s like a reflex: when you get home, you turn completely around before opening your building’s door just to make sure a guy isn’t going to bash your head in and rape you in your foyer because all you can do is remember the Chicago woman who was raped and beaten 9 years ago exactly the same way, coming home from work in the middle of the afternoon in Wrigleyville.
· It’s like looking at my 7 year old niece and imagining everything that everyone is going to try and put on her narrow, innocent shoulders; how boys who think she’s pretty might get mad if she rejects them, how older boys and men might just look at her in ways that a grown man shouldn’t be looking at a girl and want to 'break her in', how she’ll be 'fresh meat' on a college campus, and wondering what the hell you can do, short of turning her into a ninja, that can prevent any of that from happening.
· It’s like looking at almost every guy and, though unfairly, expecting someone whose first recourse upon rejection will be to fuck. you. up.

It’s like turning into a soldier stationed in a hostile desert town seeing insurgents everywhere and feeling fucking pissed off because all you want is to fucking go home and not feel so beseiged like this anymore.

the west virginia attack: more commentary on the blogs

Black Woman Attacked, Sexually Assaulted, and Held Captive in West Virginia : Rachel’s Tavern

i'm going to keep an eye on this story because it is so very gross and heinous and i think it's a bizarre mark of something happening in our country.

i mentioned this story to a bunch of coworkers (and we're all progressive and feminist) and played up the whole Deliverance thing to make it a little more palatable for after-work drinks, but i think there is more to this than simple disgust with the South's Otherness.

i'll try to write more about this over the weekend, when i'm not at work.

what the FRAK is this??

Woman tortured for at least a week, officials say - CNN.com

stereotypes about the south aside (did you see the photos of the people arrested?), what the hell - ??!!

between the Jena 6 thing and this craziness, i'd say the south is experiencing a serious timewarp.

Update: a little more on the story here. it seems the folks who held her prisoner had more than one brush with the law. serious banjo-picking craziness, here.

and shakesville has a rather ranty post about it over here and someone wants to know why 'hate crime' and not 'act of terrorism'? (there's also a fleshed out baltimore article that you can find on shakesville, too.)

alas, a blog has a post on it here, too.