in the morning i admit the truth as
if in my sleep the war had ended and
one side- nearly destroyed-finally retreated
by the time i've showered and dressed and
looked around at my life
it's gone
i'm lost again
headed back
looking for a fight
unsure of which side i'm on
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
#3
Let me be crystal clear:
I do not intend on living my life out saturated with regrets, courting a ghost.
it has never been my fear of falling, but the anticipation of landing that has moved me away from the ledge-
And now that i've conquered that demon-
I must find the means of motivating my life without having to threaten it first
Pain is a powerful force in the process of change
I do not intend on living my life out saturated with regrets, courting a ghost.
it has never been my fear of falling, but the anticipation of landing that has moved me away from the ledge-
And now that i've conquered that demon-
I must find the means of motivating my life without having to threaten it first
Pain is a powerful force in the process of change
#2
In a sense it is not our history that defines us but rather the way in which we interpret it. Every experience, every interaction that we have is pushed into being with the momentum of all that preceded us. Our antecedents have left to us a legacy of their interpretations; these interpretations manifest themselves in every possible way, and behind every choice we make is a story. Through deconstructing these stories, these interpretations about our world, we are able to increase our capacity to act with agency and to emancipate ourselves from maladaptive tendencies rooted in our histories.
It isn't merely the physical characteristics that we inherit from our ancestors, but also their wounds, both gaping and healed, their triumphs, their conflicts, all the prejudices and the wisdom. Trinh Minh-ha, in her work, Woman, Native, Other: Postcoloniality and Feminism, expresses an experience of inheriting the experiences of her ancestors: "My sympathies and grudges appear at the same time familiar and unfamiliar to me; I dwell in them, they dwell in me, and we dwell in each other, more as guest than as owner" (123). Trinh Minh-ha's "sympathies and grudges" have, in part, shaped the person she has become, although these experiences were not originally hers. She embodies the stories enacted by those closest to her; they "dwell" in her, have become a part of her, separate from her intrinsic nature as a human being, yet possess the sustenance constituting her identity.
The stories passed down to us, become us; we express ourselves in accordance with them, but we must not, nor is it possible to, remain passive in respect to them. We transition subtly into the role of storyteller; indeed it is a milestone in human development when the stories we inherit become the stories we enact. Our stories, folded into a scintillating landscape, accumulate the novel and unpredictable events of our lives. Trinh MInh-ha comments on the autonomous, yet connected nature of the stories we embody: "No repetition can ever be identical, but my story carries with it their stories, their history, and our story repeats itself endlessly despite our persistence in denying it" (122). Our stories are inextricably linked to every life's story that has in some small or profound way touched our own; this is what Trinh Minh-ha means when she writes, "…my story carries with it their stories…" Furthermore, our stories are not contingent on our belief in them; they supersede our desire to deny them, and until we unravel and examine all the different components of them, we will remain as they are, bound to them.
Our lives are filled with moments pregnant with the potential to develop and efficaciously express ourselves in concert with our well being. We are incessantly and actively responding to our environments. The means by which we decide in what direction to move, what choices to make, is in large part determined by the stories we have been told about the world and about ourselves. Imagine you are twenty-five years old and have spent most of your adult life struggling to support yourself financially, pursue academic ambitions and form lasting and rewarding attachments both to yourself and others. You desire to live a fulfilling life, to grow and develop and experience the world around you in all its magnificence, and yet every initiative you take towards realizing your goals is met with internal ambivalence and self-doubt. If you pay close enough attention, you can hear the story being told, invading your mind and obstructing your path as you attempt to move towards a life that promotes and sustains well-being and happiness. If you can hear the story, conceivably, you can deconstruct it, understand it, and begin the process of accommodating additional passages in order to produce a more accurate self-concept, one in which you are able to recognize yourself as someone worthy and capable of living a healthy, joyful existence.
What of the stories that are both conflicting and pacifying? Where do we find the motivation to deconstruct a story that has been created specifically to deny a truth in order to allay pain? For example, in order for all complicit parties to participate in the formation of Israel, a story was necessary, a story that degraded the Palestinian people, in order to justify stealing their land. Andrea Dworkin in, Whose Israel Is It Anyways?, deconstructs the purpose behind the degradation of Palestinians in relation to the formation of the state of Israel. She writes, "And if Israel ended up being a tomb, a tomb was better than unmarked mass graves for millions all over Europe- different and better. I made my peace with different; which meant I made my peace with the state of Israel" (141). Dworkin's position, at that time, reflects something much bigger than her personal experiences; she is contending with the extermination of millions of humans' lives and the means by which people coped with that. Dworkin was able to be pro-active in deconstructing the purpose behind the story that Palestinians were an inferior form of the human race because the outrage she experienced in perpetuating the story outweighed the comfort of retelling it. She used her outrage to construct an alternative explanation, an explanation that sought to embrace the truth, even if that meant creating friction with a story designed to alleviate suffering. Perhaps our greatest responsibility to one another is to ensure that in the conservation of a fallacious story the conflict of living a lie must contend with the relief that we experience in telling it.
As we develop a coherent narrative of our past, we begin a process of self-reflection, in which we are able to understand ourselves more fully and gain greater agency in making future decisions. A part of this process is discerning the events that led to decisions we made at one point in time that were in discordance with our belief systems but, inevitable, because we were and always will be, limited by the knowledge, of ourselves. Dworkin stresses the importance of examining events in order to resolve conflicts. She writes, “There couldn’t be reconciliation with what couldn’t be faced” (140). The horror of the holocaust left those that survived feeling guilty and struggling to make sense of what it meant that millions of Jews had been exterminated, while they had survived. According to Dworkin, the formation of the state of Israel, was a means by which people coped with their survival’s guilt: “The building of Israel was a bridge over bones; a commitment to life against the suicidal pull of the past. How can I live with having lived? I will make a place for Jews to live” (141). As traumatic as the holocaust was, if survivor’s had the means and the support to make sense of their experiences, they may have been able to forgive themselves for their own helplessness in the face of such evil. And perhaps, had Jews been in a position to forgive themselves, the formation of the state of Israel could have developed under different pretenses, ones that may have prevented the current crises in that region.
The world Dworkin lived in was one that was so irreparably wounded by the holocaust; she carried those wounds around inside her as if they had been inflicted upon her, but perhaps it was precisely because she herself had not lived through the holocaust that she was able to deconstruct the stories created to pacify the horrors. The process by which we are able to change and to grow necessitates both an experience of suffering and an understanding that the suffering has ended. Dworkin certainly suffered as a consequence of her environment, and it is quite probable that this suffering motivated her to deconstruct the stories passed down to her by her antecedents. However, had she lived through what her antecedents lived through, she may not have had the capacity to look at something for what it was, separate from the stories created to ease the suffering of the trauma.
Every story serves a purpose; some stories aim to reveal while others wish to obscure. When we are able to discern the purpose of a story, that which intends to remain concealed becomes obvious, but just as things that don't change cannot survive, so it is with stories, and as our stories change so does our understanding of history, and so do we.
It isn't merely the physical characteristics that we inherit from our ancestors, but also their wounds, both gaping and healed, their triumphs, their conflicts, all the prejudices and the wisdom. Trinh Minh-ha, in her work, Woman, Native, Other: Postcoloniality and Feminism, expresses an experience of inheriting the experiences of her ancestors: "My sympathies and grudges appear at the same time familiar and unfamiliar to me; I dwell in them, they dwell in me, and we dwell in each other, more as guest than as owner" (123). Trinh Minh-ha's "sympathies and grudges" have, in part, shaped the person she has become, although these experiences were not originally hers. She embodies the stories enacted by those closest to her; they "dwell" in her, have become a part of her, separate from her intrinsic nature as a human being, yet possess the sustenance constituting her identity.
The stories passed down to us, become us; we express ourselves in accordance with them, but we must not, nor is it possible to, remain passive in respect to them. We transition subtly into the role of storyteller; indeed it is a milestone in human development when the stories we inherit become the stories we enact. Our stories, folded into a scintillating landscape, accumulate the novel and unpredictable events of our lives. Trinh MInh-ha comments on the autonomous, yet connected nature of the stories we embody: "No repetition can ever be identical, but my story carries with it their stories, their history, and our story repeats itself endlessly despite our persistence in denying it" (122). Our stories are inextricably linked to every life's story that has in some small or profound way touched our own; this is what Trinh Minh-ha means when she writes, "…my story carries with it their stories…" Furthermore, our stories are not contingent on our belief in them; they supersede our desire to deny them, and until we unravel and examine all the different components of them, we will remain as they are, bound to them.
Our lives are filled with moments pregnant with the potential to develop and efficaciously express ourselves in concert with our well being. We are incessantly and actively responding to our environments. The means by which we decide in what direction to move, what choices to make, is in large part determined by the stories we have been told about the world and about ourselves. Imagine you are twenty-five years old and have spent most of your adult life struggling to support yourself financially, pursue academic ambitions and form lasting and rewarding attachments both to yourself and others. You desire to live a fulfilling life, to grow and develop and experience the world around you in all its magnificence, and yet every initiative you take towards realizing your goals is met with internal ambivalence and self-doubt. If you pay close enough attention, you can hear the story being told, invading your mind and obstructing your path as you attempt to move towards a life that promotes and sustains well-being and happiness. If you can hear the story, conceivably, you can deconstruct it, understand it, and begin the process of accommodating additional passages in order to produce a more accurate self-concept, one in which you are able to recognize yourself as someone worthy and capable of living a healthy, joyful existence.
What of the stories that are both conflicting and pacifying? Where do we find the motivation to deconstruct a story that has been created specifically to deny a truth in order to allay pain? For example, in order for all complicit parties to participate in the formation of Israel, a story was necessary, a story that degraded the Palestinian people, in order to justify stealing their land. Andrea Dworkin in, Whose Israel Is It Anyways?, deconstructs the purpose behind the degradation of Palestinians in relation to the formation of the state of Israel. She writes, "And if Israel ended up being a tomb, a tomb was better than unmarked mass graves for millions all over Europe- different and better. I made my peace with different; which meant I made my peace with the state of Israel" (141). Dworkin's position, at that time, reflects something much bigger than her personal experiences; she is contending with the extermination of millions of humans' lives and the means by which people coped with that. Dworkin was able to be pro-active in deconstructing the purpose behind the story that Palestinians were an inferior form of the human race because the outrage she experienced in perpetuating the story outweighed the comfort of retelling it. She used her outrage to construct an alternative explanation, an explanation that sought to embrace the truth, even if that meant creating friction with a story designed to alleviate suffering. Perhaps our greatest responsibility to one another is to ensure that in the conservation of a fallacious story the conflict of living a lie must contend with the relief that we experience in telling it.
As we develop a coherent narrative of our past, we begin a process of self-reflection, in which we are able to understand ourselves more fully and gain greater agency in making future decisions. A part of this process is discerning the events that led to decisions we made at one point in time that were in discordance with our belief systems but, inevitable, because we were and always will be, limited by the knowledge, of ourselves. Dworkin stresses the importance of examining events in order to resolve conflicts. She writes, “There couldn’t be reconciliation with what couldn’t be faced” (140). The horror of the holocaust left those that survived feeling guilty and struggling to make sense of what it meant that millions of Jews had been exterminated, while they had survived. According to Dworkin, the formation of the state of Israel, was a means by which people coped with their survival’s guilt: “The building of Israel was a bridge over bones; a commitment to life against the suicidal pull of the past. How can I live with having lived? I will make a place for Jews to live” (141). As traumatic as the holocaust was, if survivor’s had the means and the support to make sense of their experiences, they may have been able to forgive themselves for their own helplessness in the face of such evil. And perhaps, had Jews been in a position to forgive themselves, the formation of the state of Israel could have developed under different pretenses, ones that may have prevented the current crises in that region.
The world Dworkin lived in was one that was so irreparably wounded by the holocaust; she carried those wounds around inside her as if they had been inflicted upon her, but perhaps it was precisely because she herself had not lived through the holocaust that she was able to deconstruct the stories created to pacify the horrors. The process by which we are able to change and to grow necessitates both an experience of suffering and an understanding that the suffering has ended. Dworkin certainly suffered as a consequence of her environment, and it is quite probable that this suffering motivated her to deconstruct the stories passed down to her by her antecedents. However, had she lived through what her antecedents lived through, she may not have had the capacity to look at something for what it was, separate from the stories created to ease the suffering of the trauma.
Every story serves a purpose; some stories aim to reveal while others wish to obscure. When we are able to discern the purpose of a story, that which intends to remain concealed becomes obvious, but just as things that don't change cannot survive, so it is with stories, and as our stories change so does our understanding of history, and so do we.
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
#1
Oppression is a predatory system which seeks to exploit resources; namely human resources, with complete disregard for the wellbeing and experience of the exploited, the dominated, the oppressed. In fact, both El Saadawi and bell hooks, in their respected works, bring to the attention of the reader that in order for one group of people to oppress another it is absolutely critical that they do not empathize with them, form an attachment with them, or recognize their humanity. El Saadawi and bell hooks recognize that this system can entrench any group or sect of the human population and furthermore, that no one is outside the realm of potentially occupying the role of oppressor.
In order for those that wish to live in a system organized around cooperation and in opposition to evil it is necessary that we create a space inside of ourselves to accommodate the experiences of our fellow human beings in which we allow ourselves to change and to grow. As our conceptions of the world are challenged it is our conceptions that must change not the individuals that challenge them. It is critically important that we embrace the differences that exist as a result of no two human beings having the same life experience and to recognize the fundamental likeness in all oppressed peoples struggle for emancipation. El Saadawi cites the manifestations of oppression as foreign domination in Arab countries; she stresses the necessity for western women to take in account the predicament of Arab women and instead of assuming a superior, enlightened position, El Saadawi suggests that the feminist movement would be best served if western women approached women in developing countries with a desire to understand an experience different from their own.
“It is necessary at all times to see the close links between women’s struggles for emancipation and the battles for national and social liberation waged by people in all parts of the ‘third world’ against foreign domination and the exploitation exercised by international capitalism over human and natural resources” (El Saadawi, reader pg. 62).
When a connection is established between women’s struggles for equality and the struggles of oppressed peoples in developing countries for human rights, a common enemy is discovered and the force that opposes that enemy grows. El Saadawi recognizes that it is ineffective to acknowledge oppression in one environment and justify it in another; and that in order for emancipation to occur a great deal of momentum must exist to counter the desire of an entire system that will stop at nothing to acquire and exploit.
Although the system of oppression that currently exists does not collectively serve us as a species, precisely because it prohibits the opportunity for connection and relationships amongst us, nothing will change until we confront the ways in which we as individuals are perpetuating this paradigm. Ultimately the possibility of change relies on those that suffer at the hands of it because it could only be such that those of us that are gratified by the system are far less likely to feel motivated to change it than those of us that are drowning in it. First, we must cultivate a relationship with ourselves, “It is necessary to remember that it is first the potential oppressor within that we must resist – the potential victim within that we must rescue – otherwise we cannot hope for an end to domination, for liberation” (bell hooks, reader pg. 114). If we look inside ourselves and discover that in certain respects or contexts we have held the position of oppressor we must face the shame of our actions and instead of persecuting ourselves for acting in discordance with our dignity we must stand up for ourselves, as self-respecting individuals, with a desire to understand everything that has led to this moment without judgment, but with interest, curiosity and the courage to change.
Perhaps one of the most challenging aspects of oppression to reconcile is that we are not as free, internally, as we would like to think that we are. As we uncover the processes and the events that have led us to act as the dominator we are confronted with the lies we have been telling ourselves, the lies that bind our anger and excuse our oppressor; for all too often it is the case that those that oppress us are the same individuals that we are dependent on for growth and maturation. Bell hooks states, “Even though family relations may be, and most often are, informed by acceptance of a politic of domination, they are simultaneously relations of care and connection” (reader pg. 114). As long as we exonerate the actions of those that we loved, whether they are a parent, a partner, a sibling etc., we will necessarily deny our experience and the suffering we endured at the hands of our oppressor. The denial of our own experience will inevitably lead to identification with theirs, as that is the ultimate excuse and the most effective means by which we can pretend that we were cared for; often times going so far as to call the oppression we suffered an act of love.
The ideas expressed by El Saadawi and bell hooks seem to converge at the possibility for liberation of oppressed people everywhere when we do so with genuine love, when we cultivate relationships with each other and begin a dialogue that recognizes one another’s humanity and need to be seen, to be heard. El Saadawi promotes unification amongst all groups whom desire the freedom from oppression, “Victory in the long and difficult struggle for women’s emancipation requires that women adopt a flexible attitude and be prepared to ally their efforts with all those who stand for progress” (reader pg. 63). El Saadawi acknowledges the threat this poses to systems of oppression underscoring the absolute need for unification. Bell hooks’ argument also emphasizes the necessity of unification as a source to draw upon as the struggle for liberation from oppression is fought. “Working together to identify and face our differences – to face the ways we dominate and our dominated – to change our actions, we need a mediating force that can sustain us so that we are not broken in this process, so that we do not despair” (reader pg. 118). It is only with love that we will successfully resist our common enemy; it is only with empathy and a sense of duty, first to ourselves and secondarily to one another, that there is any hope at all for freedom. In a sense, it must be the process that motivates us to grow and not the hope for a specific outcome, if the process can fortify us it will persist, but if it takes all we have and offers nothing in return besides some distant hope we are doomed to fail.
In order for those that wish to live in a system organized around cooperation and in opposition to evil it is necessary that we create a space inside of ourselves to accommodate the experiences of our fellow human beings in which we allow ourselves to change and to grow. As our conceptions of the world are challenged it is our conceptions that must change not the individuals that challenge them. It is critically important that we embrace the differences that exist as a result of no two human beings having the same life experience and to recognize the fundamental likeness in all oppressed peoples struggle for emancipation. El Saadawi cites the manifestations of oppression as foreign domination in Arab countries; she stresses the necessity for western women to take in account the predicament of Arab women and instead of assuming a superior, enlightened position, El Saadawi suggests that the feminist movement would be best served if western women approached women in developing countries with a desire to understand an experience different from their own.
“It is necessary at all times to see the close links between women’s struggles for emancipation and the battles for national and social liberation waged by people in all parts of the ‘third world’ against foreign domination and the exploitation exercised by international capitalism over human and natural resources” (El Saadawi, reader pg. 62).
When a connection is established between women’s struggles for equality and the struggles of oppressed peoples in developing countries for human rights, a common enemy is discovered and the force that opposes that enemy grows. El Saadawi recognizes that it is ineffective to acknowledge oppression in one environment and justify it in another; and that in order for emancipation to occur a great deal of momentum must exist to counter the desire of an entire system that will stop at nothing to acquire and exploit.
Although the system of oppression that currently exists does not collectively serve us as a species, precisely because it prohibits the opportunity for connection and relationships amongst us, nothing will change until we confront the ways in which we as individuals are perpetuating this paradigm. Ultimately the possibility of change relies on those that suffer at the hands of it because it could only be such that those of us that are gratified by the system are far less likely to feel motivated to change it than those of us that are drowning in it. First, we must cultivate a relationship with ourselves, “It is necessary to remember that it is first the potential oppressor within that we must resist – the potential victim within that we must rescue – otherwise we cannot hope for an end to domination, for liberation” (bell hooks, reader pg. 114). If we look inside ourselves and discover that in certain respects or contexts we have held the position of oppressor we must face the shame of our actions and instead of persecuting ourselves for acting in discordance with our dignity we must stand up for ourselves, as self-respecting individuals, with a desire to understand everything that has led to this moment without judgment, but with interest, curiosity and the courage to change.
Perhaps one of the most challenging aspects of oppression to reconcile is that we are not as free, internally, as we would like to think that we are. As we uncover the processes and the events that have led us to act as the dominator we are confronted with the lies we have been telling ourselves, the lies that bind our anger and excuse our oppressor; for all too often it is the case that those that oppress us are the same individuals that we are dependent on for growth and maturation. Bell hooks states, “Even though family relations may be, and most often are, informed by acceptance of a politic of domination, they are simultaneously relations of care and connection” (reader pg. 114). As long as we exonerate the actions of those that we loved, whether they are a parent, a partner, a sibling etc., we will necessarily deny our experience and the suffering we endured at the hands of our oppressor. The denial of our own experience will inevitably lead to identification with theirs, as that is the ultimate excuse and the most effective means by which we can pretend that we were cared for; often times going so far as to call the oppression we suffered an act of love.
The ideas expressed by El Saadawi and bell hooks seem to converge at the possibility for liberation of oppressed people everywhere when we do so with genuine love, when we cultivate relationships with each other and begin a dialogue that recognizes one another’s humanity and need to be seen, to be heard. El Saadawi promotes unification amongst all groups whom desire the freedom from oppression, “Victory in the long and difficult struggle for women’s emancipation requires that women adopt a flexible attitude and be prepared to ally their efforts with all those who stand for progress” (reader pg. 63). El Saadawi acknowledges the threat this poses to systems of oppression underscoring the absolute need for unification. Bell hooks’ argument also emphasizes the necessity of unification as a source to draw upon as the struggle for liberation from oppression is fought. “Working together to identify and face our differences – to face the ways we dominate and our dominated – to change our actions, we need a mediating force that can sustain us so that we are not broken in this process, so that we do not despair” (reader pg. 118). It is only with love that we will successfully resist our common enemy; it is only with empathy and a sense of duty, first to ourselves and secondarily to one another, that there is any hope at all for freedom. In a sense, it must be the process that motivates us to grow and not the hope for a specific outcome, if the process can fortify us it will persist, but if it takes all we have and offers nothing in return besides some distant hope we are doomed to fail.
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