Today’s Take Back the Tech! action is about reshaping public space online. We want to recognize that much of this space is created and managed by women and there are many women who work hard to make digital spaces more welcoming for women. To that end, we’re asking people to highlight an inspiring woman in the tech or online realm.
I’ve chosen Anita Sarkeesian, a media critic whose blog Feminist Frequency deconstructs tropes associated with women in pop culture. I love how accessible her work is. There’s so much high-concept feminist analysis out there that’s valuable, but I really appreciate feminists who address what people are consuming daily and do so in a way that anyone can understand. Sarkeesian writes about movies, television, music, comics, and video games, with topics ranging from damsels in distress to non-violent iPhone games.
Sarkeesian faced serious harassment when she launched a Kickstarter campaign to fund a Feminist Frequency video project. In addition to threats, insults and photoshopped images, someone created a video game that allowed players to beat her. But she was not deterred. She stood up for her right to exist and speak up in online spaces and is even more influential now. In fact, she ended up with nearly 7,000 Kickstarter backers and $158,917 to create her Tropes vs. Women web series.
Is there a woman in the tech/online world who inspires you? Spread the word. Mention her in the comments section and link to her work in your social media. Add or update her Wikipedia page (sorely needed since women are not equally represented on Wikipedia). Rewrite women into the digital story!
Today is the International Day for the Elimination of Violence Against Women. It also marks the start of 16 Days of Action Against Gender Violence and Take Back the Tech!, a collaborative campaign to reclaim technology to end violence against women. From now until December 10, join us in reshaping digital and physical spaces through the theme Public / Private.
I happen to be the global coordinator for TBTT! this year, so I’m thrilled that we’re kicking off today with Twitter conversations on privacy and violence against women. Do a Twitter search for #privacyismyright to see what people all over the world have to say and be sure to use the hashtag when you tweet.
We’ve got 16 days of simple actions you can take to have a positive impact on violence against women. The first four days are up in English, Spanish, and French, so take a look to see what we’ve got planned.
This is a shorter post than usual, but I’ll be posting more often the next couple of weeks to share with you the important work we are doing and how you can take part.
Define your line. Shape your space. Take back the tech!
It’s that time where we take a look at a few things we should learn more about, so let’s have at it.
I am obsessed with this collection of photographs from Nicola Ókin Frioli. Los muxes, gay men in the Mexican town of Juchitán, are beloved by the community. Families consider them a blessing, a good luck charm. They drink, work, and legislate in traditional Oaxacan dress: flower-embroidered blouses, brightly colored skirts, and scarves wound through long hair. Yet another reason I should figure out how to retire to Oaxaca.
When the subject of street harassment comes up, people usually argue about how best to deal with it. I’ve tried ignoring it, yelling back, giving the finger, and looking straight at them to ask why they think it’s okay to talk to women that way. David Cross has a hilarious joke about what these men might be thinking when they holler at us, but what I really want to direct you to are two women’s artistic responses to street harassment. In City of Brotherly Love, Hannah Price photographed Philadelphia men just after they harassed her. She captures an interesting moment; some guys look uncomfortable with the lens on them, while others don’t seem to care. Likewise, Tatyana Fazlalizadeh captioned her drawings of women with the things she wanted to tell harassers and then hung the posters around Brooklyn. They sparked a community conversation as people scribbled their thoughts in the blank spots.
Finally, Frieze Week–with two major art fairs and countless gallery openings–just happened in London, and it highlighted more African artists than the city had ever seen. Included as a Frieze Master was feminist artist Nil Yalter. Yalter’s photographs, drawings, paintings, and installations typically focus on aspects of the lives of women and immigrants.
I was momentarily disappointed that the Nobel Committee did not award Malala Yousafzai with the Peace Prize. Then I realized that she’s bigger than that prize and certainly bigger than the Nobel Committee’s narrow view of peace work. In fact, I’m glad they didn’t choose her because that would imply that she needs to be chosen by a select group of aging white politicians, that her work is not valuable unless deemed so by an institution. So congratulations, Organization for the Prohibition of Chemical Weapons, for, you know, doing your job like the rest of us!
Only fifteen women have won the Peace Prize since it began in 1901, compared to 85 men and 25 organizations. Still, that’s significantly better than the scientific awards, where women aren’t even close to double digits:
- Chemistry: 2%
- Physiology or Medicine: 5%
- Physics: 1%
- Economics: 1%
Women fare the same in Literature as they do with the Peace Prize, a very modest 12%. Alice Munro is the finest short-story writer around, so I’m always happy to see her work lauded. It’s important that we recognize Munro’s stories of the inner lives of women in quiet towns as worthy of attention, but her Nobel Prize in Literature does not make these numbers go down more easily. The Nobel Committee’s gender problem reveals a long history of ignoring women’s work and devaluing women’s stories.
Take Malala. What more inspiring story could you possibly find? But she’s just a girl. How could they give such an important award to a little girl?
She’s just starting out and has her whole life to win such a prize!
Malala has already done more than any one person could ever be asked to do. When I was sixteen, I was pretty much a self-absorbed twit who thought she knew everything. How many pundits, commentators, and editorial writers have decried the so-called apathy of today’s young people? How many have said, in my day we marched for civil rights, we marched against Vietnam? How many have criticized digital activism as comparatively lazy and wished kids would get up off their butts and do something?
Then comes Malala, who risks her life to write about education for the BBC. She gets shot in the head, recovers, and holds no grudges. She keeps working to support education. She talks like the Dalai Lama. She wows Jon Stewart with her dedication to peace at all costs, saying about the Taliban’s death threats:
I started thinking about that, and I used to think that the Talib would come, and he would just kill me. But then I said, ‘If he comes, what would you do Malala?’ then I would reply to myself, ‘Malala, just take a shoe and hit him.’ But then I said, ‘If you hit a Talib with your shoe, then there would be no difference between you and the Talib. You must not treat others with cruelty and that much harshly, you must fight others but through peace and through dialogue and through education.’ Then I said I will tell him how important education is and that ‘I even want education for your children as well.’ And I will tell him, ‘That’s what I want to tell you, now do what you want.’
Meh, she’s just a girl.
There’s always been negativity around the world girl. It’s often used to insult or belittle. It’s associated with disempowerment. But maybe being a girl can finally be an amazing thing.
Malala works to ensure that girls all over the world have access to education. Experts now agree that the most important thing organizations and governments can do to promote peace and improve life in low-income populations around the world is to educate girls. Malala’s work gets to the root of why we don’t have peace. And, of course, why so few women have won Nobel Prizes.
At 36, I find myself wanting to be one-tenth as amazing as that sixteen-year-old girl. The Nobel Committee doesn’t deserve her. We don’t deserve her. But she keeps working for us anyway.
This brave Pakistani girl. Let’s appreciate her while we can. Let’s remember that all Pakistani girls–all girls–are potential Malalas. Let’s follow her lead and give them all a chance.
Last week I got into a Facebook argument with someone I didn’t know on a friend’s page. I was a bit embarrassed, as I normally ignore stupid Facebook comments from complete strangers and I didn’t want to turn my friend’s page into my own little soapbox, but he said something I just couldn’t let go.
The guy prefaced his comment by admitting it was ethnocentric and then said the entire continent of Africa is a shithole that has nothing to offer the rest of the world and he has no interest in anything that happens there.
I…I just–I couldn’t let it go. I had to say something. So I said something about imperialism and racial hegemony and recognizing our own roles in the various struggles in various parts of Africa.
As expected, he figured I was a hypocrite because what I had ever done for Africa?
Well, for one thing, I don’t freaking shut an entire continent out of my life because I can’t be bothered with its misery. In fact, I actively engage with issues in Africa though my work in women’s advocacy and enjoy, in particular, music from Mali, food from Ethiopia, and literature from Egypt. Furthermore, I recognize that Africa is made up of countries and cultures that are distinctive and complex and is not just a big pile of shit, thank you very much.
Can you tell I’m still a bit angry?
Sometimes I think I’ve become an angrier person since the internet invaded my life. There’s so much to be upset about!
Let’s all take a deep breath and pour a glass of smoky scotch to soothe us.
The good thing is that there’s a lot to love and cherish and celebrate too. Like this piece on how Western feminists could learn a thing or two from Africa’s many women leaders (64% of the Rwandan parliament, for instance). That’s why I decided to share with you some of my favorite African women working in creative fields today. If you aren’t already familiar with them, you will love them.
- Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie: What can I even say about this woman? She writes like a graceful beast, stomping right through your heart on her toes. From Nigeria, Adichie is the author of, among other books, Purple Hibiscus, Half of a Yellow Sun (which won the Orange Prize), and the recently released Americanah. She’s also given two kick-ass TED talks, “The danger of a single story” and “We should all be feminists.” Yes, ma’am, please, and thank you.
- Ama Aita Aidoo: Poet, playwright, and author Aidoo writes about women challenging traditional gender roles in Ghana. Check out her novel Changes, which follows Elsi, who leaves her husband after he rapes her and then enters a polygamous relationship.
- Tsitsi Dangarembga: This Zimbabwean writer published her first book, the award-winning Nervous Conditions, when she was only 28. It was one of the best works I read in graduate school. She also created the story for Neria, one of the most successful films of Zimbabwe.
- Sokari Douglas Camp: A sculptor from Nigeria, Douglas Camp works out of London. Her medium is steel, and she draws from Nigerian culture (more specifically, her Kalibari heritage) and such issues as war, oil, death, gender, and race. Her work looks homemade and industrial at the same time; it is shiny, dark, and bright at once. I love Yoruba Ladies, Sharia Fubara, and Saint.
- Mariam Doumbia: One half of musical duo Amadou & Mariam, Doumbia went blind as a child, like her guitar player and fellow vocalist, Amadou Bagayoko, whom she met at Mali’s Institute for the Young Blind. Last year saw the release of their eighth album, Folila. Listen to “Dougou Badia,” which features Santigold, whose voice blends nicely with Doumbia’s.
- Nadine Gordimer: A Nobel Prize winner, Gordimer writes of race and politics in South Africa. Her award-winning novel The Pickup deals with the alien feeling of being an immigrant. She is also known for her work against apartheid and for HIV prevention.
- Tracey Rose: Based in South Africa, Rose explores identity, gender, race, and the body through performance, video installations, and photography. Her 2001 video installation Ciao Bella, which offers images of iconic women “taunt[ing] one another’s historical time zones and scoff[ing] at one another’s histories and politics,” has been described as “a shambolic, operatic, feminist parody of Leonardo Da Vinci’s Last Supper (1495–8).” I ask you: does it get better than that?
- Nawal El Saadawi: An Egyptian feminist writer and doctor, El Saadawi wrote, among other books, Woman at Point Zero, about a woman forced into prostitution who receives a death sentence for killing her pimp. The story was based on a real prisoner. El Saadawi, a former political prisoner, is a big advocate for women’s rights and speaks out against female genital mutilation.
- Rokia Traoré: This Malian musician performed in and wrote the music for Toni Morrison’s play Desdemona, shared a song with Half the Sky‘s 30 Songs/30 Days, and recorded with Kronos Quartet. She is smart and bold, and she plays the hell out of her guitar. Her album Beautiful Africa just came out.
It seems like stories of transgender folks are appearing in the news more and more. Recently, students at Marina High School in Huntington Beach, California, crowned Cassidy Lynn Campbell as their first transgender homecoming queen, which was great news that was inevitably followed by bullying and criticism.
Before that, Army Pvt. Bradley Manning bravely became Chelsea Manning. Many journalists and media outlets respectfully followed AP style guidelines by using Manning’s new name and female pronouns, which made for a good lesson for the general public, but Fox News, to no one’s surprise, refused to make the change and even ridiculed Manning’s gender identity.
In the past few months, Jamaican trans teenager Dwayne Jones was beaten, stabbed, and shot to death by a mob in Montego Bay; 21-year-old Islan Nettles was out with other trans folks in Harlem, New York, when a group of men beat her to death; a trans woman was stripped naked and thrown off a bridge in Mexico City; and Diamond Williams, a transgender woman in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, was killed and dismembered, her body parts left in a field.
I understand that a lot of people have lived their entire lives thinking of gender as a fixed fact of life instead of a fluid social construct. That doesn’t excuse violence, but it explains some of the ignorance we keep seeing. The presence of out gays and lesbians in pop culture has helped to normalize homosexuality and strengthen equality efforts such as legalized gay marriage, so I’m crossing my fingers that as transgender folks become more visible–through everything from reality shows to Pulitzer Prize-winning novels–the rest of the world will continue to loosen their heternormative restraints.
Even for those who happily identify as their assigned sex, the performance of it can be exhausting. Haven’t you ever wanted, even for a moment, to break free from the confines of your manhood or womanhood?
I’ve decided to dedicate this week’s post to highlighting transgender artists and gender-bending art. If you want to understand why people struggle with their assigned sex and work to create their own gender identities, this list is an excellent start.
- Heather Cassils: focuses on busting gender binaries through images of the body and performance art, sees transgender as a “continual becoming,” recent work: Becoming an Image
- Zackary Drucker: uses photography, videography, and performance art to explore the complexity of bodily identity and seeing; check out She Gone Rogue
- Greer Lankton (deceased): created posable dolls representing people considered as “freaks” until her death in 1996, inspired by Candy Darling, final work: It’s All About ME, Not You
- Del LaGrace Volcano: considers the performance of gender and intersex experience through installations, performance, film, and photography; recent work: Sex Works
- Antony Hegarty: performs with collaborators under Antony and the Johnsons, winner of UK’s Mercury Prize for I Am a Bird Now, lush and otherworldly vocals, also a visual artist, recent work: Cut the World (live album) and Turning (acclaimed documentary of a European tour)
- Vaginal Davis: started The Afro Sisters, Black Fag, and Pedro, Muriel and Esther; performed with Le Tigre and The Julie Ruin; performance artist exploring spectacle and racial and gender confusion through counter-cultural personas; recent work: “Lesbi Tropicalia – Tea & Sympathy” (performative intervention as part of Helio Oiticica)
- Rocco Katastrophe: rapper, singer, and producer uniting queer and hip-hop cultures; featured on The L Word soundtrack; started the first trans men’s magazine (Original Plumbing) with photographer Amos Mac
Filmmakers and Theatre Artists
- Iizuka Kashou: writer/director of Our Future, a Japanese coming-of-age film centered on an 18-year-old girl who explores her masculinity after her parents separate
- Andrea James and Calpernia Addams of Deep Stealth Productions: produced comedic shorts Transproofed and Casting Pearls as well as the first all-transgender Vagina Monologues, prepped Felicity Huffman for her role in Transamerica
- D’Lo: analyzes South Asian and immigrant experiences of non-traditional gender identity and sexuality through comedy, leads community workshops, recent work: D’FunQT (one-person show)
- Ma Vie En Rose (Belgium, 1997): Seven-year-old Ludovic prefers dresses, which his family initially finds endearing until they discover there’s more to it than fashion and others don’t respond as kindly in this comedy drama.
- Beautiful Boxer (Thailand, 2003): This drama tells the true story of Nong Thoom, a successful Muay Thai fighter and trans woman.
- Tomboy (France, 2011): A little girl is mistakenly identified as a boy, and she goes along with it, feeling perhaps that it’s not a mistake after all.
- Breakfast on Pluto (Ireland, 2005): Based on the novel by Patrick McCabe, this film follows a trans woman’s youth in 1940s Ireland, right next to the border of Northern Ireland and the busy and violent IRA.
- Sacred Country: Rose Tremain’s prize-winning novel is set in rural England, where we find Mary Ward, the child of poor farmers, who discovers at six that she doesn’t want to be a girl.
- Middlesex: Jeffrey Eugenides’s Pulitzer Prize-winning novel follows the struggles of Cal, an intersex child raised as a girl in a fairly traditional Greek American family, who finally manages to define his own identity as an adult.
- Cereus Blooms at Night: Shani Mootoo’s acclaimed debut explores gender identity in a fictional Carribean country through Tyler, a nurse who cares for Mala, an older woman suspected of killing her father.
- Annabel: Kathleen Winter’s debut novel reminds us of the limitations of gender through an intersex child raised as Wayne, who loves hunting in the desolate Labrador countryside with his father but has a shadow self he calls “Annabel.”
I’ve spent the last week in bed with this miserable end-of-summer illness that’s going around, but the upshot is that I watched loads of Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel. Years ago, when Buffy was already in its fifth season, I happened to catch an episode and was immediately hooked. I’d forgotten how much I once craved a female superhero. Coincidentally, this was also when Alias started, and though Sydney Bristow boasted no actual super powers, I still loved to watch her kick ass, especially in that bright red wig.
As a late 70s tot, I was a big fan of Linda Carter’s incarnation of Wonder Woman, Diana Prince, though I was far too young to understand much about the story. There’s a picture of me, about three years old, standing in the living room in my Wonder Woman Underoos, and I can barely contain my excitement.
As I got older, I searched for similar themes in books–not warriors necessarily but girls and women who took control, solved problems, made decisions, and changed the world in some way if only in their little communities. Therefore, I read a lot of Nancy Drew, and I was really drawn to the notion of a regular girl fighting crime because it made me feel like I could do that sort of thing.
And that’s what I liked about Buffy Summers and Sidney Bristow. One was a blond, outgoing high-school student and secret chosen one, while the other was a graduate student in English (just like me!) and world-class spy. While these shows had their flaws, I liked how Buffy addressed the good girl/bad girl binary: Buffy couldn’t be just one or the other; ultimately, she had to be both. She had to accept that her dark side was an essential part of her and was not such a terrible thing to embrace. A girl or woman could be multi-dimensional, have conflicting feelings, be tough and firm if she wanted to, and drive the story. She didn’t need to be anyone’s sidekick. She didn’t need saving. And she didn’t need to please everyone.
Has there been another good female superhero since then? I suppose Katniss is one, though she doesn’t have super powers and there’s that tiresome love triangle that guides much of her story. But who else? I admit that I’m not very knowledgeable about comics, but there’s a reason for that. The few women characters always seemed to be impossibly busty and done up in just a strip of leather. To the rescue: artist Alex Law’s Little Girls Are Better at Drawing Superheroes Than You displays little girls’ re-interpretations of superheroes, and they are uplifting and exciting. Little girl Hulk in a tutu might be the best thing ever.
There’s been an influx of superhero movies lately, but they’re mostly the same old stories of straight white dudes. Supposedly, Marvel is a pinch interested in making a female superhero movie because they see a hole they can fill, but they aren’t ready to move. Furthermore, this world is in dire need of more superheroes that aren’t white. Can we get a black Batman or Arab Harry Potter?
Enter Qahera, who breaks the mold and then some. Egyptian artist Deena’s veiled female Muslim superhero fights both misogyny and Islamophobia. Qahera deals with current, real-life scenarios such as sexual harassment and the sexist response of Egypt’s police to said harassment.
It’s fun to imagine having super powers and using them to kick a little ass, especially when faced with a corrupt police force or tyrannical regime, but Ciudad Juárez has its own superhero right now, minus actual super powers, one assumes. A woman calling herself Diana the Huntress (excellent name choice, though I prefer her Greek form, Artemis) has been shooting bus drivers in response to women’s frequent sexual abuse at the hands of the drivers. Authorities say she’s getting revenge, but considering the utter lack of police and government response to rampant femicide in Juarez, you might call it justice.
The thing is I don’t think violence really is a part of justice. I don’t actually want to respond to violence with violence. I think the value in a good superhero tale is not in graphic violence but in the symbolism. Buffy didn’t kill humans, only monsters, and those monsters were the physical manifestation of angsty teen emotions. One of the things I loved about Buffy was that it wasn’t just good vs. evil. Buffy was about accepting that there’s no such thing as perfectly packaged categories of good and evil. There are subversive feelings and ideas lurking beneath cheerleader smiles.
Rather tellingly, Juarez officials have put far more effort into catching this single woman who has killed two men (and wears a blond wig, by the way) than into finding the perpetrators of the mass rape and murder of the city’s female citizens. Clearly, serious cultural change–not violence–is what’s needed to end gender-based violence in Mexico, Egypt, or anywhere else. Transforming traditional narratives, especially superhero stories which are part of our collective consciousness (i.e., the mythic hero’s journey), are an important part of this necessary cultural change. Though that may be why Diana the Huntress chose an archetypal hero as her nom de guerre.
What I responded to most in superhero stories from Wonder Woman to Buffy the Vampire Slayer was the image of a curious, bold, strong, and smart girl or woman who could lead people and effect change. That’s why Nancy Drew was a kind of superhero to me. She saw problems in her world and found a way to solve them on her own. Like Nancy, Diana, and Buffy, I was never interested in being a damsel in distress (or fragile princess, a mythologized Diana of another kind), in letting life just happen to me. I wanted to make life happen, and I wanted to solve problems. That’s what the best superheroes do. If our superheroes reflected more diversity, we might be more inclined to see these strengths in people no matter their gender, ethnicity, religion, etc.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, it feels like Athena is about to bust out of my skull, so I must get back to fighting the good fight against the simple cold.