Posts tagged: social justice
—Unknown author, responding to AFeministSub’s objection that “there has never been anything controversial about the fantasy of female submission” (and making the mistake of conflating individual experience with systemic oppression).
See also: Chains of Oppression by Penny Red.
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During the Blues Recess Gender Bender, I went to a long session called “Interrupting Oppression.” Here’s a short list of suggested words and phrases that can help you when you feel the need to call out an oppressive behavior.
Present your thoughts—point out what you see happening.
- “I noticed that you are talking really negatively about yourself.”
- I noticed that you used the word [insert-oppressive-language-here]. What did you mean by that?”
- “That sounds kind of racist to me.”
- “It sounds to me like you’re uncomfortable with her because she’s [insert-non-oppressive-language-here.]”
- “It seems to me like you’re being pretty judgmental.”
- “I’m sure you didn’t mean to offend me, but you did, and let me tell you why….”
- “Ouch! I did not like that.”
- “I can’t believe you just said that.”
Ask Questions
- It sounds like you think that all [insert-description-here] people are [insert-oppressive-language-here]. Is that what you really think?”
- “Do you have any idea why what you said might hurt someone’s feelings?”
- “Did you know that members of that group find that hurtful?”
- “Can you say more about what you mean?”
- “Where did you hear that information?”
- “I wonder why you think it’s okay to comment on other people’s bodies?”
- “What does that person’s (race, ethnicity, sexuality, age, ability) have to do with this conversation? Do you specify if someone is white, heterosexual, and able-bodied?”
- “Do you know how that word has been used historically?”
- “What do you mean when you say…?”
- “Excuse me?!” (said with disbelief) “Do you realize what you’ve just said?”
- ”Do you believe what you just said?”
Humor
- “You know every single person who is [insert-description-here] and they are all exactly like that?”
- “You’d think that people could just all be people, wouldn’t you?”
Adapted from: OCADSV Participant’s Manual 2001. Unlearning Oppressions & Ally Model Training Material. “How to Interrupt Racist Comments—Principles for Eliminating Racism.” Pg. 35-36. “Interruption Skills.” Clackamas Women’s Service and Volunteers of America Home Free.
I don’t have the wherewithal to share more of my thoughts at the moment.
Do you have suggestions for words or phrases that you use to interrupt oppression or to call out oppressive behavior?
This blog is my job. If it moves you, please help me keep doing this Work by sharing some of your food, shelter, or money. Thank you!
This simple information graphic depicts various forms of privilege and oppression as a set of multiple spectra (lines) that all intersect at a central point. The ends of each line is labelled with the “privilege” on the top half of the graphic and its corresponding “oppression/resistance” on the bottom half, while the line itself is labeled with the associated “-ism”. While the graphic doesn’t use the term, it can therefore be considered a visualization of kyriarchy.
The various privileges and oppressions along with the “-ism” they relate to, respectively, depicted are as follows:
Due to the complexity of kyriarchy, there are several glaring issues with this visualization. First and foremost, it’s incomplete, arguably inevitably so. Future versions should consider augmenting it with the following additional axes:
There are surely many more missing axes, which I encourage you to suggest in the comments or reblogs of this post. (The above are simply examples to showcase the diagram’s incompleteness.)
The other issue with this visualization is that it is dangerously binarist. In trying to elucidate the ways in which, as opinion8d said:
Many of us are multiply privileged and multiply oppressed. They don’t counterbalance each other. [Unsurreptitiously stolen from Crawford, 2006 - Transformations: Women, Gender, and Psychology.]
the graphic creates a privileged/oppressed dichotomy without acknowledging the fact that both privilege and oppression are context-dependent. For instance, in assigning youth the privileged position along the ageism axis, it makes invisible the various oppressions of adultism. This is why, in discussions of privilege, it is vital to remain cognizant of the difference between categorical and non-categorical privilege.
It is, of course, arguably impossible for anyone to design an info graphic that is 100% complete. Similarly, I think it’s foolhardy to attempt to deconstruct all this incredible complexity without appropriately scoping our conversations, defining our terms, and in the process excluding certain concepts, experiences, or identities from a given (but not every) discussion. And even if it were possible, I don’t think it would be very useful.
As I’ve said numerous times before:
Dichotomies are genuinely useful, even necessary. We use them all the time to make sense of the world around us. In fact, dichotomies themselves conveniently come in two mutually exclusive varieties! These are: true dichotomies, and false dichotomies.
Many people often get very (and I do mean very) angry at me for using tools like analogy and bisociation to make legible various forms of oppressions (“-isms”) that they do not often understand. For instance, there seems a large contingent of the trans* community (as though “the trans community” were a monolith, which is false, of course) that seems endlessly frustrated with me for my attempts to raise awareness of sexism and its intersection with domism by borrowing from trans experience.
While I understand the frustration, I feel, as I said during my Atlanta Poly Weekend 2011 seminar:
This is what in-group/out-group, us/them, you-versus-me, thinking looks like. This is how privilege hierarchies are created and recreated time and again.
Rather than conceptualizing privilege and oppression as a categorical dichotomy, a static and universalizing force, what if privilege were conceptualized as difference plus obligation? That is, since we are all “multiply privileged and multiply oppressed,” in those areas where we have privilege, we ought also couple it to an ethical obligation to use that privilege in the service of those who do not have it.
By the same token, what if oppression were conceptualized as difference plus creativity? Those who resist oppression are inherently creative. Even in acts of destruction, those who resist oppressions are creating spaces for difference, sometimes simply by virtue of their bold acts of survival.
Think about it: privilege is emptying. For instance, what does it mean to be “white”? It means to be not a person of color. What does it mean to be male? It means to be not female, for that would be “unmanly”!
I think that if we were able to internalize a fluid understanding of privilege and oppression, if we could queer the very concepts themselves, we could reliably gain the power to imagine people complexly, and thus treat one another far more humanely than we are often rewarded for (not) doing today.
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Last night, I attended Matriarchy at The RACK Room in Denver, Colorado, at the gracious invitation of the venue’s owners, Jeff and Headmistress Saskia. The event bills itself as:
[O]pen to ALL women (sub, slave, top, mistress, cis, trans, female-identified, etc.) and men wearing their sub, slave or bottom hats.
Men are welcome at the invitation of a female guest, but must come in a bottom, submissive, or slave role and are not allowed to top in scenes at Matriarchy events.
Apparently, the event’s been happening since at least December, 2010, when Saskia described it as:
[A] party for kinky women (including trans), be they dom, sub, switch or other. Males are allowed only as guests of a female and are considered in service to that female for the evening. Males aren’t allowed to do much of anything at this event unless a woman gives them permission.
The party’s turnout was small (maybe about 20 people or so). It also—thankfully—had a far more casual attitude around that stupid protocol than either the event’s or Saskia’s phrasing seemed to suggest, though I don’t know how much of the casual attitude was caused by the party being, well, not much of a party. The “lots of play” promised by the event invitation was had almost exclusively by the evening’s hosts, themselves.
I was there to talk about KinkForAll Denver, which I did. But I was also there because, hey, BDSM parties are where I Work, which I did, too. Such events are a bit like distributed laboratories, offering me a way to observe structural patterns in what ignorant people consistently insist is simply individual preference; having the privilege to access these laboratories in disparate locales is one of the things that helped me understand the ways in which The BDSM Scene is actually a systemic abuser.
This is also why it’s incredibly frustrating to me that members of the BDSM Scene behave incredulously when it’s revealed that there are abusers among their midst. It’s not just that real abuse does happen in BDSM communities (just like everywhere else in our violence-addicted culture), although that’s certainly heartbreaking. It’s that the BDSM Scene is an institution whose most lauded characteristics actively attract abusers.
Need proof? Just contrast Saskia’s flippant wording for Matriarchy (“Males aren’t allowed to do much of anything at this event unless a woman gives them permission.”) with the kinds of experiences often endured by people suffering intimate partner violence (“control where you go or what you do”).
Of course, it’s important to distinguish between the BDSM Scene as an institution, what I’ve termed the BDSM Scene-State, and some given BDSM play activity itself. The short-sighted and, bluntly, stupid conflation of systemic versus individualistic perspectives, coupled with dramatic misunderstandings of what BDSM ethnographer Staci Newmahr calls “the erotic-violent dualism” is the source of the absurd defensiveness with which many BDSM Scenesters adamantly deny their unflattering participation in such an oppressive system. Moreover, the very fact that I’ve heard this silly “but we’re special” story in every single regional Scene I’ve travelled is, itself, proof of the structurally abusive dynamics to which I point.
Further, the distinction between individualistic and systemic perspectives is what enables BDSM to problematize many of the things that it does, consent being the most widely discussed. By way of example, the use of safewords mirrors the US Government’s Veterans Affairs office recommended use of “code words” to help prevent intimate partner violence:
Consider finding a code word to use as a distress signal to family members, children, and friends. Inform them in advance that if they hear you use the code word, they should get help right away.
While you can “safeword” during a scene, you can’t safeword The Scene. Just as rape culture is the institutionalization of (systemic) sexism, the BDSM Scene is the institutionalization of the practice of fetishizing oppression culture; it is, to use McKenzie Wark’s phrasing, an abstraction—a double of a double. It’s no surprise, then, that so many people who are “not white, heterosexual, class-privileged, cisgendered, conventionally attractive, able-bodied, etc. [have wondered why] the BDSM Scene just doesn’t work” for them.
The BDSM Scene needs to be resisted not because the BDSM Scene is “inherently bad,” but because it is a system. The simple exercise of tallying imagery at BDSM venues exposes this nicely.
Last night at The RACK Room, I counted 22 images of women to 2 images of men. The former were mostly framed pictures on the walls, while the latter were both attached to the refrigerator and partially obscured by the jumble of postcards and other odds and ends. One conversation I had with a party-going couple in attendance was particularly telling.
“Why do you think there are so many pictures of women and so few of men?” I asked.
“Well, that’s what sexy photos look like,” the man said. “To men, anyway,” he added.
“This is also a pro-domme house,” the woman offered, “so I think a lot of it has to do with the clientelle.”
“Oh,” I said, feigning surprise. ”So why are so many of the women in the photos tied up, then?” I asked them.
“Well, again, that’s sexy,” the man said.
“For what viewer, though?” I pressed him. He paused. “Are you saying submissive men want to see women tied up when they’re paying to be dominated by women?”
“Huh,” he said, “that does seem a little odd.”
Clearly, this had never occurred to him and, more to the point, it had never pained him before. That ignorance belies a privilege. It was and always is easy to point to the most well-known oppressions, like race, gender, class, and so on. And yet there are so many others so often overlooked and sometimes even more impactful.
As with all of us, Jeff and Saskia like to tout their inclusiveness, their sensitivity, their anti-oppressive intentions. But all of these things are constrained by the limits of what we can perceive. When I am feeling generous, I believe they remain exclusive of, insensitive to, and oppressive against what they don’t see not because they are bad people, but because they are invested in—and now beholden to—the system that grants them privileges they are not even aware they have. When I am feeling less generous, I believe they are also lazy, because, come on, they’re hosting a party where the thing they’re harping on is the way males “aren’t allowed to do much of anything…unless a woman gives them permission” and they haven’t even bothered to hang some pictures of men tied up on their walls? I mean, really?
So, while it’s (relatively) easy to point out the systemic sources and influences of something so blatantly obvious like that—I say as someone who’s been enormously hurt by how difficult it’s been to make people aware of these influences—it’s just as important, yet far more difficult, to point at even more “innocuous” or “individual” situations as being influenced by and contributing to systemic cultural indoctrination.
I don’t even know how to begin discussing some of these other, more innocuous things, which makes me rather timid. So, in lieu of having much else, I’ll share a relevant portion of an email I wrote to an organizer of the Myth parties in NYC some months ago:
I do think party spaces can offer a certain value and that they are important for sustaining a certain kind of social group. However, I strongly disagree with you that party or party-like spaces offer much if any value or opportunity for “the connection of those people with potential role models” for values of “those people” who are, as I stated earlier, more like me and less like you. You are therefore creating a Scene that serves you and yours. And more power to you. But I feel strongly that you ought recognize your argument comes fundamentally from a place that frankly presumes the privilege of comfort with sexuality and sexualization itself. And consider, please, that in a world which is overwhelmingly sex-negative, the people who have such comfort are fewer and farther between than you may be ready to acknowledge, because such people include even myself, and I like to think of myself (as I hope you know) as a strong champion of the sex-positive movement.
At the risk of sounding unpleasantly rough, let me put it to you bluntly: I do not feel safe nor comfortable in a room full of people who generally know one another if I know that there is a desire among them to fuck one another when I am not already familiar with them socially. I had to work really, really, really fucking hard to feel comfortable at your Halloween party. And while I am obviously capable and willing to do that work to acclimate to social environments, I do not believe you have any clue just how much energy I poured into starting conversations, meeting people, and—for lack of a less skeevy way to put this—”working the party” to find conversational entries to meeting those who I wanted to meet. *AND I WASN’T EVEN THERE FOR THE NAKED PARTS,* as evidenced by the fact that I intentionally chose to leave your party when I noticed it was growing more…touch-focused.
Now, it is *not* your *job* to make your Halloween party comfortable for me, but, in my opinion, if you think that simply getting a bunch of kind people in a room together who are all, as your document put it, “respectful, kind, consent- and privilege-aware, awesome people who are as committed as we are to a fun, sexy, and above all, safe and consensual party,” then you are woefully under-informed about the obstacles to creating what I view as an actively socially-inclusive atmosphere for sex or any other social activity really are. And that is going to hinder the success of your party space if you view it, as you seem to, as an activist endeavor.
I realize this is harsh and critical, but I trust you not only need no sugarcoating, but prefer our conversation that way. When you said “most of my activism is sex” shortly after we met, by which I took to mean “most of my activism involves having sex and creating (safer) sexualized spaces,” I was immediately put off. I want to be clear that I respect your activism greatly, even while it is not my activism. In fact, I wish you much luck. I would love to participate in your parties; I’d totally volunteer, given the chance and some future hypothetical desire to attend. But such party-centrism so thoroughly permeates sexuality subculture that I have increasingly come to see it as syphoning off focus and attention from other activities, such as a sorely-needed greater understanding of the diversity inherent in the ways different people *are able to connect,* socially.
I was never asked “Are you enjoying yourself at this party?” or “How are you doing right now?” when I was in your Halloween party. No one asked me to tell them about who I was. Few people even bothered to start conversing with me unless and until I proved my value as an interesting person by happening to say something that sparked interest in them; and I had to stand there and listen and *look* for those openings, which is NOT something I could have done without the 8+ years of experience I’ve had at specifically trying to figure out how to navigate those social spaces.
Parties may be great for people who are attending with a cadre of friends, lovers, or other pre-established social connections. But they are frankly often very, very poor experiences for people not yet connected to a social *group.*
Again, none of this is a slight on you or your Halloween party. It is simply a retelling of my experience in the hopes that by being brutally honest about my experience that night might make you aware of a whole different set of experiences, ones that may heretofore have been invisible to you. I am, after all, very practiced at hiding this personal difficulty for the sake of social ease; and those who are not as good at hiding this difficulty do not often last long in such spaces. Thus the chicken-and-egg that I expressed frustration with in my “Fuck The Community” post repeats again. And again. And again. :(
[…]
I hope you raise the bar on the standards with which party organizers organize parties. God knows that’s needed, because most parties are fucking awful, sexually-classist spaces that I routinely, actively and unapologetically lambaste. In my view, they deserve it.
But it’s still a party. And unless Myth is a space where the kind of *active inclusion* I described lacking from your Halloween party is practiced, I frankly don’t think it’ll amount to much beyond a new Scene, and I simply don’t find new Scenes worthy of much investment.
[…]
Yeah, [a party can be a valuable space for queer people to connect with each other]. And for some, it is. Great. For many, it’s not. For many, there is no more dreadful feeling than being in the center of a crowded room and still feeling lonely for reasons that the “party” is simply unable or, worse, unwilling, to address.
No, Myth wasn’t a place of “active inclusion,” but that is a post for another day. Very few parties are. I’ve only been to 1 in my whole life where it wasn’t “the host’s job” to say hello and ask how people were doing, where people simply came up to me to ask with genuine, empathetic interest, “How are you feeling?” Even most “intentional communities,” who often enjoy defining themselves with a rhetoric of openness, behave hypocritically in this regard; they are just a clique with a fancy name.
I don’t find fault with individuals for systemic abuses. It’s the system supporting the hypocritical behavior I hate, and so should you, because such systems intentionally enforce ignorance.
This blog is my job. If it moves you, please help me keep doing this Work by sharing some of your food, shelter, or money. Thank you!
Last week, Ian Mclean launched an exciting new media project called The Free Open Society. In the spirit of Wikipedia, Anonymous, Occupy Wall Street, and many other collective intelligences that have successfully galvanized myriad individual actors, The Free Open Society (FOS) is aiming to, in its own words:
bring together a collective of new media journalists to curate, edit, and disseminate a concentration of news from disparate movements, paradigms, and projects related to social progress towards the Singularity, post-scarcity economy, and transhuman society as well as threats or challenges to that progress.
The project is currently seeking contributors to write and share various kinds of information, and I’d encourage you to join up if you’re interested.
I’m intrigued because Ian has a keen eye and is now focusing its lens on the often overlooked power of inter-community spaces. In the Preamble to the Free Open Society Manifesto, Ian wrote:
I envision people from the Singularity Movement educating their peers on the Zeitgeist Movement and the Zeitgeist Movement educating their peers on Anonymous and Occupy.
And so on.
This, I think, is the crucible of revolution.
At the level of individuals, many of these communities don’t know about or know little about the others. I’d like to equip the individuals with an education kit to allow people from different countries, different states, cities, ideologies, methodologies, and paradigms to educate one another on the system of activists, hacktivists, researchers, engineers, and artists currently at work trying to make a better tomorrow for everyone.
We need not only local action but global action if we are to achieve the kinds and quantities of change we need. Coordination between local groups, certainly, but also coordination between global groups and local groups. Both top-down and bottom-up approaches as each provides a kind of strength the other lacks.
In this declaration of intent, Ian is highlighting the need for us not to come together as a single community—a structure so many demagogues have abused in the past—but rather for us to come together as a community of communities. In some places, the FOS Manifesto echoes those such as Eric Hughes’s A Cypherpunk’s Manifesto, the Wayseer Manifesto, the Organization for a Free Society’s Manifesto, and more. In others, the FOS Manifesto is very particular about its intent to be a formal, inter-group alliance and to act specifically in support of other groups. In short, in Ian’s words:
Each movement holds a piece of the puzzle, and when every movement is brought together to contribute their piece, we can see the whole for what it is.
Or, in my own words, written earlier:
Divide and conquer is every oppression’s primary stratagem. Unity with diversity ought therefore be the root principle guiding every social justice movement. […]
I have learned of the diversity of intimacy from the asexuality movement, of the value of transforming the structure of relationships from the polyamory movement, of myriad physical beauties from the body-positivity movement. In Buddhism, the archetype of invincible equanimity is Guanyin, a compassionate deity whose thousand hands hold one instrument of liberation each. My pains are not an expression of self-pitying grievance. They are expressions of the struggle to fulfill an obligation to give to others the one instrument of liberation only I can forge, so that we all may use it. Each of Guanyin’s one thousand instruments of liberation has the power to heal one of the thousand cuts to sexual freedom.
Every one of you has such an instrument[…].
I plan on contributing to the FOS project where I can because it articulates the same sentiment I’ve been pouring my energy into pursuing. I’m proud to be an earlier contributor. A presentation on the intersection of technology, polyamory, and social justice activism I created for last year’s annual Public Anthropology Conference was added to the FOS project’s Tumblr archive. And I’m also pleased to see Ian and the other contributors taking my Creative Commons license seriously; as I say on my main website’s Advocacy blurb, “These [works] are free content for a free culture. Downloading and redistributing them, along with their source materials, is encouraged.”
You are not stealing from me when you quote, link to, or copy-and-paste my words into your own work, or contributing it to the works of others, such as the Free Open Society project. In fact, please, do so!
I want a new American Dream. I don’t know exactly what it is, but I think that we could build it, if we try together, because we live in an amazing moment in history.
As I bet any sexually vocal person will tell you, the Internet has fundamentally transformed our ability to communicate with one another. For example, before the Internet, if you were a gay teenager in bum-fuck nowhere, you were the only gay person in the world. Now, though, after the Internet, if you’re a gay teenager in bum-fuck nowhere, you’re one of millions of gay teenagers communicating online.
This is big. This is not merely the evolution of telecommunication technologies. This is a revolution.
The Internet is such a big deal that it’s actually a revolution of all kinds—media, governance, technology itself. But it’s also a second sexual revolution, and this one—our generation’s sexual revolution—traces its roots through the first. This is where just a bit of history comes in handily.
On May 9th, 1960, the first oral contraceptive was made available to the general public; “the Pill” sparked the sexual revolution of the 1960s and ’70s. Like all revolutions, no one could predict the outcome at the outset. It sparked chaos; the sexual revolution precipitated the “sex wars” in the 1980s.
Also in the 1960s—in 1962 to be exact—Joseph Carl Robnett Licklider, affectionately known as “Lick,” (not kidding) first proposed a global network of computers. The project was initially adopted by the Advanced Research Projects Agency (ARPA), an R&D branch of the US military.
As the slogan “Make Love, Not War” spread through public consciousness in the “free love” movement of the 60s, the Internet was being recognized as a tool of generic utility and in 1969 was launched as ARPANet. “Make love, not war” is, at least poetically, a physical parallel of Internet technology.
A specification for the ubiquitous File Transfer Protocol (FTP) was published in 1973—the same year as the Roe v. Wade decision legalized abortion in America. In 1986, as the sex wars raged, the National Science Foundation funded NSFNet as a cross country 56 Kbps Internet backbone for expressly non-commercial, essentially academic purposes. The protocol for the World Wide Web, called the HyperText Transfer Protocol (HTTP), was developed by Tim Berners-Lee in 1989, and, of course, eventually became the most widely used protocol on the public Internet.
In the same way as Gutenberg’s printing press was recognized as a revolution, bringing with it 150 years of chaos, so too is the Internet. Before the printing press, countries were kingdoms. The invention of the printing press around the year 1440 essentially signalled the start of the end of a feudal Western social order, culminating in the Peace of Westphalia in 1648, which brought forth a new system of political order to Europe and, with it, the modern concept of nation states. What might replace today’s countries in 150, or even just 50 years from now?
These histories highlight the intersections of and tensions between technology, culture, and policy. Moreover, hegemonic preconceptions are especially insidious when they make their way into technology. The same-sex marriage debate illustrates this when, for instance, clerks in many jurisdictions maintaining matrimony databases try to record a new marriage and the computer systems they use ask them “Which one’s the wife?” This unintentional antipathy to the diversity of human identities and relationships, which is literally encoded into society’s infrastructure, is perhaps the greatest silent threat to our species’ survival.
Schemes for a marriage database completely free of gender and sexuality assumptions do exist. Sam Hughes’s example permits any human to marry any other human any number of times and have any number of partners simultaneously. Now, if you tried to use a schema like his, you’d actually be forced to write tons of application layer logic to enforce the legal restrictions that are placed on marriage today; our technology already offers us capabilities that are beyond our society’s understanding of the social constructs and contracts many people have and are using right now.
The Dalai Lama once said, “Love and compassion are necessities, not luxuries. Without them, humanity cannot survive.” But today, as environmentalist and author Paul Hawken observed, “goods seem to have become more important, and are treated better, than people.” Faced with the existential threat of this mounting tension, our species will be forced to shoulder the challenge that political advisor Jeremy Rifkin imagines we can accomplish: “extend our empathy to the entire human race as an extended family, and to our fellow creatures as part of our evolutionary family, and to the biosphere as our common community,” or perish.
Thus, the urgent question is: how do we do that? As it happens, today’s polyamory movement is uniquely situated at an ideological and technological intersection illuminating a possible answer. Polyamory’s key tenet—that a relationship involving more than two individuals is a good and valuable thing—is so powerful because it is so simple. To understand why, we can look to the Internet.
In his seminal work, New Rules for the New Economy: 10 Radical Strategies for a Connected World, technology theorist Kevin Kelley wrote, “In the network economy, the more plentiful things become, the more valuable they become.” From a polyamorous perspective, one could say, “Love is not a scarce commodity,” or, even more generally, “the more, the merrier.”
As I see it, a poly activists’ core goal can be succinctly described as achieving equality in relationship choice. That is, polyamorous people recognize that the structure of a compulsorily monogamous relationship, in which one individual is connected to only one other individual, is limiting. Instead, we argue, many people may find more value by changing the structure such that one individual can be connected to more than one other individual.
This has some remarkable parallels to the way telecommunication technologies (like the Internet) work. In essence, polyamory does for relationships what digital telecommunication technologies have done for ideas. Here’s how veteran web designer John Waters explained it:
In the industrial economy, scarcity established value. Natural resources such as oil, gold, and diamonds were scarce and therefore considered valuable. […] Paul Romer and other theorists introduced the “New Growth Theory”. In this model, the principle of scarcity is turned upside down.
The new theory essentially divides the world into two productive inputs: “things” and “ideas”. Only one person at a time can use things such as a hammer, a telephone, a lawnmower, or a car. On the other hand, ideas can be used by many people simultaneously, i.e., recipes, blueprints, formulas, methodologies, and software. They can be used to rearrange things. They can be copied, shared, and connected, thereby leading to more ideas. “Economic growth,” Romer says, “arises from the discovery of new recipes and the transformation of things from low to high value configurations.”
Such “transformation of things from low to high value configurations” is what the polyamory movement does with regard to relationships. The most obvious limitation with the often-monogamous notion of “true love” is that it creates a scarcity model, and free distribution is anathema to maintaining scarcity. Polyamorous people understand that “free love” is not just a hippie slogan, it is a way to create real-world emotional value.
It is now our words, in the form of programming languages, that are driving the evolution of technology. The corpus of this technological literature changes our physical reality, offering us everything from hormone therapies to space shuttles to online social networks.
Meanwhile, those same social networks offer fertile soil where non-mainstream perspectives—and new languages—can take root. As Wired columnist Regina Lynn wrote, “Beyond the obvious benefits of online community, the language’s Internet-speed evolution continues to give polyamory a boost. When poly or poly-curious people stumble across the polyamorous lexicon, the discovery can help validate their worldview.”
The introduction of new language—both terms and techniques for communication itself—is a profound change. In the words of asexuality activist David Jay, “By finding new ways to talk about relationships we can greatly increase our options for forming them.” In addition to the value offered by transforming the topology of relationships, there is value in having a diversity of relationship types; even healthy monogamous people have strong friendship, co-worker, familial, and other kinds of social networks that look similar to polyamorous people’s more intimate networks.
In the early 19th century, American railways were a transportation infrastructure for commerce—a network of matter-moving devices. In the early 1990’s, the World Wide Web emerged as a general purpose infrastructure for communications—a network of idea-moving devices. Today, polyamorous and non-monogamous culture is a peer-to-peer infrastructure for the transmission of information about human relationships—a literal social network of compassion-moving devices.
This marriage of polyamorous culture with the Internet thereby accelerates the distribution of the Dalai Lama’s prophylactic prescription for humanity. Or, in other words, the success or failure of that quintessential American Dream, your “pursuit of happiness” is, at least in part, intertwined with others’ similar pursuits. As Harvard professor Nicholas Christakis observed:
“If I were always violent towards you or gave you misinformation, or made you sad, or infected you with deadly germs, you would cut the ties to me, and the network would disintegrate. So the spread of good and valuable things is required to sustain and nourish social networks. Similarly, social networks are required for the spread of good and valuable things, like love and kindness and happiness and altruism and ideas. I think, in fact, that if we realized how valuable social networks are, we’d spend a lot more time nourishing them and sustaining them, because I think social networks are fundamentally related to goodness. And what I think the world needs now is more connections.”
In the latter 20th Century, the American Dream grew up in a house with a white picket fenced porch, had a college education, and got a steady job. But today, the American Dream has increasingly been seen as a platitude veiling corporate greed. Founding director of Xavier University’s Center for the Study of the American Dream, Michael Ford, sums up the situation like this:
[T]o an astonishing degree [Americans] have lost confidence in the institutions traditionally seen as Dream guardians. […] Americans feel they are on their own but they haven’t lost the Dream. They have confidence in themselves, their families and their personal networks.
So perhaps adopting the polyamorous tenet, that goodness is inherent in social connectedness, is therefore not merely a social ideal, but also a blueprint for a 21st Century version of a re-imagined, re-invigorated American Dream.
(via maybemaimed.com)
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Although I was ultimately unable to attend the Threshold party at Mission Control this past Saturday, I still obtained a tally of the venue’s imagery, as promised. Having received permission to share the message I got verbatim, here are Threshold “Relaunched” tally’s results:
I categorized based on sexy-women (25), sexy-men(3), and neutral-women(4), neutral-men (0).
When I first entered I was pretty impressed, as the three sexy men images were in the lobby (with the third actually more in the hall, but definitely in the entrance type area). This was all there was, however.
Most of the sexy-women images were pretty tame, vanilla images, evoking a roaring 20s aesthetic (flapper girls, etc), but when you got into the rooms that were more explicitly sexual (the orgy room and the dungeon-themed room), the images were exclusively of women, and the dungeon-themed room was entirely submissive women.
[…]
This was kind of a depressing little project.
Depressing, indeed: that’s 29 to 3.
I also asked specifically about trans-identified media:
As a followup, were you able to see any imagery that included trans iconography of any kind, or were all the pictures cisgender people?
My correspondent replied:
As far as I know, all of the images were of cis people[…], though there was one image that included cross dressing (lesbian couple, vaguely american gothic, butch/femme). I can’t really say that none of the images were of trans people, since one can’t really know how the models identify, etc, but there was no explicitly trans media, as far as I remember.
Last time I obtained a tally of Mission Control’s imagery, three months ago, the results were skewed 22 to 1 in favor of depicting female bodies. I also didn’t see any explicitly trans media then, and I even noted the very same lesbian image referenced here. So it seems “install[ing] new art,” as Mission Control said they’d do, isn’t a priority for them. What else is new?
This post isn’t really about countering systemic bias in iconographic representation—making the invisible visible so we can finally see what we want to be—important as I believe that is. This post is about something far more fundamental: it’s about why and how some things stay invisible.
Parts of our exchange offered an example of a conversation that I have with others far more frequently than I’m able to ethically share. It goes like this. Usually, upon receiving a private message with useful information in it, I respond with a request:
How would you feel about my publishing the tally you sent me as a status update, so it’s recorded on the Internet machine forever? :) I won’t cite you as the source unless you let me know that you’re comfortable with that. On a similar note, I’d also love to share your own words […] on my blog, because it adds so much feeling to the sterile numbers in the tally. But again, I’ll only do that if you’re comfortable with it, which is why I’m asking first, and I need not identify you by name or anything, either. Let me know?
Regardless, thank you again.
Sometimes their answer is no. Sometimes their answer is yes. Sometimes their answer itself offers an invaluable insight into the way systems of oppression work. This is an instance of the last case:
My first reaction in hearing you ask to use some of the text was definitely some nervousness. I know you’re offering to not use my name, but I feel that someone still might recognize me. And then I’m like “wow, there’s the power of the threat of ostracism!” Since moving [to the Bay Area], I’ve been a pretty lonely kid. so the prospect of making enemies in the scene before I’ve really made many friends is pretty scary.
[…]
Long story short: It’s shameful to find myself driven to hide my observations/experiences in order to promote my standing in the community. So, to hell with it. Yeah, go ahead and use whatever text you want.
(Emphasis mine.)
Kink In Exile explained what’s happening here more succinctly than I could: “the reason you stay within the lines is so that you don’t fall into the victim class.” And, for risking that, I would be remiss not to point out that my correspondent is braver than that word can adequately express—a new personal hero of mine. Until you are free to draw your own lines, going outside the lines others draw is vitally important; anything less than agitation is tantamount to anesthetization.
Moreover, the issue of inequitable media representation directly affects people’s experience at such “sex-positive” venues. In another portion of our exchange, my correspondent wrote of Mission Control’s Threshold party:
There was a neat liquid nitrogen demonstration, but I left when that opened up for people to try out, and it seemed pretty clear that the volunteers were all going to be women who were being urged to undress to some degree or another. It was partly a safety concern (if the nitrogen pools, it will burn), but the audience’s fervor at their undress made me uncomfortable. As a fat genderqueer, I wanted to feel what it was like, but didn’t dare go line up to try it out.
I wrote back:
While I’m sure the hosts were competent with their props, I know all too well what you’re talking about when you talk about it seeming “pretty clear that the volunteers were all going to be women who were being urged to undress to some degree or another.” And I’m sorry you experienced that discomfort, especially in a party where I know how much the hosts tried to make all their guests feel safe and comfortable, although in a rather misguided way.
Moreover, I’m sensitive to that particular discomfort you’ve described despite often presenting as a skinny man, not a fat genderqueer, for the exact same reasons.
I was at a small, private gathering just last week and although I ultimately had a great time, there was a moment early in the night when all of the women-identified people in the room were naked and none of the men were. And this kind of thing, where only female bodies are on display or are more easily (eagerly?) socially exposed, happens all the time. In Seattle several weeks ago, I was recruited to perform in a Polyamory Fashion Show because all the other male-identified performers had dropped out at the last minute, leaving only women. The organizer, bless her persistence and commitment, turned [to me and] asked me to hop in place of the others. And, only half-jokingly, I replied, “Well, in the name of gender diversity, I’ll do it!”
This is an important reminder that homogeny in iconography and representation as you describe is a disservice to all people. Until the phrase “women in porn” does not almost universally imply “skinny white able-bodied ciswomen in porn,” both men like me, fat genderqueers like you, and all women who aren’t the women included in too many people’s conception of “women in porn,” will need far too much courage to dare brave an audience’s fervor like the one you encountered.
I’d have wanted to feel what it was like, too. And I wouldn’t have dared line up in an environment like that, either.
Later, I received the following elaboration:
The hosts were great with the demo, it was definitely totally safe[…]. The issue started with the demo bottom being [a] skinny white cis woman (which is totally not her/their fault, since she’s the fiancee of the demo top and she can’t help her body type/race/status/gender). It just got bad when she asked the demo top if she should disrobe at all and the crowd started jeering for her to “take it off.” This sort of behavior continued when it was opened up for people to volunteer to feel what it was like. After one or two volunteers, I slipped out of the room to go back to watching porn.
(Emphasis mine.)
This is not a “minor” concern nor an isolated incident: it is one of the injuries leading to sexual death by a thousand cuts. I’m often asked why I am so passionate about every small cut in that set of 1,000 as I am with the most heinous iniquities in our world. I’ve long had trouble articulating an answer because the answer is so obvious to me that it’s the question which seems absurd. Everything—everything—is connected.
Again, Kink In Exile explains this succinctly:
What I didn’t realize for a long time in looking at sexuality communities is that though often experienced in a bubble these communities are not created in a bubble, and from there the connection between the devaluation of[, for example,] male submission and the experiences of American girls in math courses is glaringly obvious. Deviance from gender norms scares people because it exposes them to the potential that they will accidentally fall into the victim class.
[…]
[Therefore, i]t is good and proper to work for someone else’s benefit because every time you take down a system of oppression you take down a threat against yourself.
(Emphasis mine.)
The inverse of that statement is equally important to articulate: it is good and proper to work for your own benefit because every time you free yourself from an oppression, you offer others an escape from it, too. The lack of sexually submissive masculine imagery, for example, is not more or less important, is not more or less painful, than the business world’s “glass ceiling” restricting women’s upward mobility. Each of these are different branches of the same insidious evil, and different faces of the same struggle against it.
Divide and conquer is every oppression’s primary stratagem. Unity with diversity ought therefore be the root principle guiding every social justice movement. I do not advocate for valuing sexually submissive masculinity because those of who us express it are any more integral to a socially just world than any other group, but rather because we are an equally and uniquely integral piece of the whole.
I have learned of the diversity of intimacy from the asexuality movement, of the value of transforming the structure of relationships from the polyamory movement, of myriad physical beauties from the body-positivity movement. In Buddhism, the archetype of invincible equanimity is Guanyin, a compassionate deity whose thousand hands hold one instrument of liberation each. My pains are not an expression of self-pitying grievance. They are expressions of the struggle to fulfill an obligation to give to others the one instrument of liberation only I can forge, so that we all may use it. Each of Guanyin’s one thousand instruments of liberation has the power to heal one of the thousand cuts to sexual freedom.
Every one of you has such an instrument, because, in the words of Martha Graham:
There is a vitality, a life force, an energy, a quickening that is translated through you into action, and because there is only one of you in all of time, this expression is unique. And if you block it, it will never exist through any other medium and it will be lost. The world will not have it. It is not your business to determine how good it is nor how valuable nor how it compares with other expressions. It is your business to keep it yours clearly and directly, to keep the channel open. You do not even have to believe in yourself or your work. You have to keep yourself open and aware to the urges that motivate you. [There is] no satisfaction whatever at any time. There is only a queer divine dissatisfaction, a blessed unrest that keeps us marching[…].
That’s why ostracism is so powerful and so harmful: it is the epistemic equivalent of rejecting the instrument of liberation being offered.
To all my brave correspondents, for each of your unique struggles, I want to say as I said to the person who offered me a tally of Mission Control’s imagery at Threshold:
[T]hank you so much for the effort you put into this, for relaying your experiences so thoughtfully and honestly, and for sticking with it despite the depressing outcome and personal difficulty you had that night. Thank you so, so much.
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A Bit Rich | the new economics foundation
(I shared this when it was published in December 2009, but it’s worth re-reading.)
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Catherine MacKinnon’s (198Z, 1987) version of radical feminism is itself a caricature of the appropriating, incorporating, totalizing tendencies of Western theories of identity grounding action. It is factually and politically wrong to assimilate all of the diverse ‘moments’ or ‘conversations’ in recent women’s politics named radical feminism to MacKinnon’s version. But the teleological logic of her theory shows how an epistemology and ontology - including their negations - erase or police difference. Only one of the effects of MacKinnon’s theory is the rewriting of the history of the polymorphous field called radical feminism. The major effect is the production of a theory of experience, of women’s identity, that is a kind of apocalypse for all revolutionary standpoints. That is, the totalization built into this tale of radical feminism achieves its end - the unity of women - by enforcing the experience of and testimony to radical non-being. As for the Marxist/ socialist feminist, consciousness is an achievement, not a natural fact. And MacKinnon’s theory eliminates some of the difficulties built into humanist revolutionary subjects, but at the cost of radical reductionism.
MacKinnon argues that feminism necessarily adopted a different analyt-ical strategy from Marxism, looking first not at the structure of class, but at the structure of sex/gender and its generative relationship, men’s constitution and appropriation of women sexually. Ironically, MacKinnon’s ‘ontology’ constructs a non-subject, a non-being. Another’s desire, not the self’s labour, is the origin of ‘woman’. She therefore develops a theory of consciousness that enforces what can count as ‘women’s’ experience - anything that names sexual violation, indeed, sex itself as far as ‘women’ can be concerned. Feminist practice is the construction of this form of consciousness; that is, the self-knowledge of a self-who-is-not.
Perversely, sexual appropriation in this feminism still has the epistemolo-gical status of labour; that is to say, the point from which an analysis able to contribute to changing the world must flow. But sexual objectification, not alienation, is the consequence of the structure of sex/gender. In the realm of knowledge, the result of sexual objectification is illusion and abstraction. However, a woman is not simply alienated from her product, but in a deep sense does not exist as a subject, or even potential subject, since she owes her existence as a woman to sexual appropriation. To be constituted by another’s desire is not the same thing as to be alienated in the violent separation of the labourer from his product.
MacKinnon’s radical theory of experience is totalizing in the extreme; it does not so much marginalize as obliterate the authority of any other women’s political speech and action. It is a totalization producing what Western patriarchy itself never succeeded in doing - feminists’ consciousness of the non-existence of women, except as products of men’s desire. I think MacKinnon correctly argues that no Marxian version of identity can firmly ground women’s unity. But in solving the problem of the contradictions of any Western revolutionary subject for feminist purposes, she develops an even more authoritarian doctrine of experience. If my complaint about socialist/Marxian standpoints is their unintended erasure of polyvocal, unassimilable, radical difference made visible in anti-colonial discourse and practice, MacKinnon’s intentional erasure of all difference through the device of the ‘essential’ non-existence of women is not reassuring.
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As per usual, hopefully well-meaning but ill-informed celebrities are enjoying whipping the mainstream media conflicatinator into a frenzy over sex trafficking crimes. (So, y’know, thanks for nothing, Ashton.) And while that’s unhelpful for a whole host of reasons, one thing it does do is offer the opportunity for clear-headed journalism to raise this really important point:
In the past, says CdeBaca, some feminists and religious conservatives have resisted attempts to talk about forced labor and sex trafficking as part of the same broader issue. “There were those who said that by focusing on both sex trafficking and labor trafficking, that somehow we were [treating] prostitution as a valid form of labor,” he says. Some felt that “if you care about women you should do stuff on sex trafficking—labor trafficking is a distraction.” But labor trafficking, besides being a gross human rights violation, is also a feminist issue. Seventy percent of guest workers from Indonesia, for example, are female. “Women are the majority of farmers in the world,” CdeBaca points out. “That means that many of the people who are enslaved in the fields, even in the U.S., are women.”
By “some,” this article specifically means social conservative feminist crusaders. In her book, Prostitution, trafficking, and traumatic stress, Melissa Farley writes:
In order to defend prostitution as sex work, trafficking was articulated as gender-neutral, with labor trafficking and sex trafficking collapsed under the same rubric as ‘trafficking in persons.’ Otherwise it would be too evident that the ultimate harm of sex trafficking is the decidedly gendered condition in which the trafficking victim is transported into—prostitution.
This is cleverly disguised double-speak. It may sound noble, but essentially condemns whole swaths of people based on categorical labels patronizingly dictated by Farley herself. There is no room in such black-and-white thinking for people to claim self-determination, to achieve a wholeness of existence every person deserves.
Calling this issue or that a “distraction” in no uncertain terms tells people “what you care about is not important.” It happens far too frequently. We mustn’t let this behavior continue.
At Pride this year, a contingent of supporters of accused Wikileaks source Bradley Manning marched holding signs that read “gay hero.” Predictably, certain LGBT advocates objected, claiming that the presence of the Manning contingent at Pride “dilutes the issues” of both Wikileaks’ importance and the fight for LGBT civil rights. They could not be more wrong.
I understand that, as activists, messaging matters. Struggling to be heard in this sound bite-obsessed media landscape necessitates clear and concise communication. But the need to be succinct is not a convincing argument against using the word “and”; Bradley Manning is the alleged Wikileaks whistleblower and a gay hero. Similarly, disappearing labor trafficking in order to inaccurately hype sex trafficking is a disservice to the 90% of human trafficking crimes that are non-sexual and to the people (of all genders) who are coerced into providing sexual labor.
Objecting to the intersectional reality of certain issues only makes sense if you buy into the either-or, throw-them-under-the-bus mentality on which systemic oppression is based in the first place. And anyone who calls themselves an activist or a human rights advocate who knowingly trades the well-being of even one person over another doesn’t deserve the self-appointed title.
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The difference between categorical and non-categorical privilege is that categorical privilege is based on someone belonging to a category, like their race or sex or sexual orientation and non-categorical privilege is a more individualistic concept, denoting that specific people seem to, through their speech or actions, have an easier ride in life than others in some way or another.
[…I]n a forum, the discussion would quickly turn into one of categorical privilege, where people would […] assign her categorical privileges like upper class privilege or heterosexual privilege, citing that some category she falls under is clearly the one and only explanation for her flagrant demonstration of privilege. Some less cogent forum posters devolve into rants about how non-privileged they are and all the anger they want to express no longer just at her but the entire category she falls under (upper class or heterosexual).
The irony I see in this sort of behavior and as a problem with categorical privilege itself is that it is precisely the line of thinking that keeps them non-privileged by their own system. They argue that people assume things about them because of their race or sex or socioeconomic status or sexual orientation, yet here they are working backwards from the privilege to the privileged category and claiming that the entire privileged category has some monolithic uniform experience, and that we can assume they will all act the same way because they come from that category. If we can assume all that, can you blame other people for assuming that non-privileged categories will all act the same way because of the category THEY come from? Does this not reduce to the same problem that spawned the idea of talking about privilege in the first place?
Privilege—my weird take, by Leah McKelvey.
(Very interesting take on the notion of privilege itself as a problematic concept. I think?)
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