The Intersections of Feminist-Psychologist-Activist and Emotional Burnout // Renee Mikorski, M. S.

Img src: everydayfeminism.com

2016 has been a tough year. Prince died, Trump was elected president, and there have been countless national struggles and tragedies that have affected our collective psyche. Just recently in East Tennessee, where I live, the Smoky Mountain wildfires have killed dozens of residents and displaced thousands of others in the area. There has been a lot to complain about and mourn for in 2016.

In addition to these large-scale tragedies that (almost) anyone in the U.S. would find emotionally draining, we as psychologists have an added layer of emotional stress in that we deal with the emotions of others on a more intimate level through our work as clinicians. As we all know, clinical work can take its emotional toll on us, especially if we do not practice a regular self-care routine.

But, I am going to argue that the intersections of woman-psychologist-activist can put us as feminist psychologists in a unique position of additional emotional burden. I am speaking as a cis White woman writing this article but I can imagine that women psychologists of color, poor women, and those who identify as lesbian, bi, or trans may feel this intersectional emotional burden even more strongly. I think that we are all in a position to feel this emotional burnout in our clinical work, in our daily lives, and as activists and this puts us in an extremely vulnerable position.

As women, we are expected to take on the emotional burdens of others. For me, this has played out in my personal relationships, especially with men. I am expected to listen, and be understanding and supportive of others in their struggles. This can lead me to feel as though my own voice is not heard in the context of those relationships, which leads to inequity within the relationship.

However, not only are we as women expected to take on this role outside of therapy, our role as a therapist inherently requires that we willingly accept those burdens. Although we have all chosen this path (presumably) because we feel passionate about helping others, our work is still draining and we must acknowledge that. I think it is also easy (it has been for me at least) to dismiss our own feelings or our own exhaustion because we are expected (as women and as therapists) to provide for others and forget our own needs in both our personal and professional lives.

The last intersection that I believe influences our vulnerability to emotional burn out is activism. As feminist psychologists, the majority of us are likely involved in some sort of activism outside of the therapy room. Activism, like therapy, can be extremely emotionally taxing, especially when the oppressive forces we are fighting are dismissive and sometimes outright aggressive towards our struggles. Oppression in and of itself causes psychological distress, but actively choosing to confront this oppression on a consistent basis, as part of our professional identities, can be exhausting.

So, how do we cope with this? I have personally been struggling with this as of late, as I further solidify my identity as a feminist psychologist and an activist. How can we maintain all of these roles and not feel exhausted and burned out, especially as feminist women who are choosing to actively confront oppression on a regular basis? As the semester winds down and winter break approaches, I plan to dedicate some time to reflecting on these intersections of emotional burden and figuring out what works for me in terms of taking care of myself to maintain that stamina and strength that is required of us. Although I’d like to neatly end his post with some suggestions for self-care and rejuvenation, I think this is something that I will need to continue to reflect on as I continue to develop my identity as a woman, a feminist, a psychologist, and an activist. On that note, I wish you all a wonderful, restful, and rejuvenating winter break!

Written by Renee Mikorski, M. S.

Merry Stressmas \\ Lauren Jacobs, M.A.

Picture from Google

It’s the time of the year again where we travel from a distance to get together with loved ones and enjoy good company and even better food. We are told to relax and enjoy each other and everything that surrounds us during this season; after all it’s the most wonderful time of the year, isn’t it? Unfortunately for women, this season is known to be one of the most overwhelming periods of the year. A survey completed by the American Psychological Association discovered that women report an increase of stress by 44% around the holidays, which is disproportionate to men’s report of approximately 30% (1). It’s true. Despite the advances women have made throughout the years in education, the workforce, politics, and economic independence, on average they still do twice as much work at home with child care and chores than a man, even when holding a full-time career. For women, holiday stress may be a function of greater family responsibilities as we are expected to and often volunteer to take all of the tasks associated with family celebrations, such as shopping, cooking, and cleaning. It takes a lot of perseverance to do all of this regularly, let alone during the holidays when we are knee deep with family visits, gift-wrapping, stocking stuffing, and cookie baking tasks. We are busy little elves trying to make the holiday everything it should be for others, often losing our sanity and spirit along the way. But please, relax and enjoy the season if you haven’t been defeated by the expectations we’ve placed on ourselves.

If that hasn’t been enough, there is always that one other thing that occurs during the holidays that can truly put the icing on your gingerbread house. (Yes, I make terrible jokes to keep up with the holiday spirit!) This one thing is known as the time when a family member opens his or her mouth and asks a highly personal, probing question such as “When are you finally getting married?” or “When are you getting a real job?”, resulting in you being left to let it fester, become embarrassed, or have the holiday-halting shouting match that makes for a good story the following year. If that doesn’t scream “Holiday fun” I’m not sure what does. This additional stressor often compounds with the aforementioned, resulting in avoidance of these off-putting inquisitions and ill-directed focuses on things that do not make this season what it’s supposed to be.

It’s with this that I want to take a moment to pause in the chaos of this season. We’re very familiar with what it is like to be over-involved in a whirlwind of attending holiday parties, decorating our homes, and finding the perfect gifts for friends and family. The holidays show up and disappear within the blink of an eye. Let’s aim to put the “stressmas” of the holidays aside and focus on sharing good times with our loved ones and creating memories that will last a lifetime. Give thanks for all that we have and are yet to experience, acknowledging all of the blessings in our lives and not taking any for granted. If we could refocus our hearts and our minds, this season may be less stressful and more delightful – and after all, tis’ the season to be jolly!

Resources

1.    http://www.apa.org/news/press/releases/2006/12/holiday-stress.pdf

The Importance of an Ecofeminist Sensibility // Rebecca Marcelina Gimeno, M.A.

I believe that given this past presidential election, and current events calling for environmental activism, an ecofeminist sensibility is extremely important as we move into 2017. Issues of climate change, mass environmental destruction, and concerns of women’s reproductive health care have all been gathered up, degraded, and exploited in today’s political discourse. For these reasons and more, I am urging feminists, psychotherapists, and those interested in political activism, to learn more about ecofeminism. For me personally, it has been helpful to understand ecofeminism as a theory, and as a political movement, which understands there to be an important connection between the oppression of women and the destruction of the environment, and that the eradication of both oppressions is necessary to an egalitarian world

When I began to study ecofeminism during my earlier years of graduate school, I had wanted to solely focus my research on the intersections of the war on women’s reproductive rights and the destruction of nature. However, as I began to learn more about our political situation, I came to realize that this intersection also speaks to the ways in which science oppresses both nature and women's bodies in the name of “progress” and the ways in which the free-market profits on the destruction of women’s bodies, especially when controlling their reproduction and for the purposes the Sex Industry. The task feels overwhelming and endless. It is extremely difficult to write on one specific form of oppression, when so much oppression is shared amongst groups of people, sentient beings, and the environment. To talk about one struggle, in a way is to talk about every struggle, and to deny the intersectionality of oppression, secures the existence of oppression itself.

 Historically women’s bodies and the natural world have been exploited, owned, commodified, and regulated by governing bodies of power, especially by patriarchal forms of free-market capitalism. As a young feminist, student, and training clinical psychologist, I am interested in the ways in which this exploitation and degradation affects our collective consciousness and personal psyches, especially when considering the war on reproductive rights and environmental destruction. Ecofeminism and select orientations of psychology have made clear the dangers of oppression for our personal and social well-beings. The destruction of the environment and the occupation of women’s bodies is a worldwide phenomenon that holds in common a view of nature as a boundless resource, and women's bodies as profitable and in need of regulation. Climate change, war, pollution, and oppressive political regimes directly harm the natural world and oppressed populations. Women’s bodies are frequently at the front line of political conflicts and ideologies which often focus on the regulation of women’s bodies and means of reproduction. Similarly, akin to the natural world, women’s bodies, are often exploited in the name of science or progress, and at times are profited from in the case of the entertainment and sex industries.

It feels as though every time I check the news, there is another abortion clinic closing, another obstacle towards securing contraceptive care, another report of domestic violence, and another environmental atrocity. Violence against the environment, and violence against women are felt internationally, and the consequences of this violence affects the whole of humankind and the Earth, our home. As activist and scholar, Greta Gaard (2010) so eloquently writes:

Ecofeminism calls for an end to all oppressions, arguing that no attempt to liberate women (or any other oppressed group will be successful without an equal attempt to liberate nature. Its theoretical base is a sense of self most commonly expressed by women and various other nondominant groups—a self that is interconnected with all life. (p.1)

Gaard is right. We cannot move towards a more egalitarian society when there is so much violence being done, violence against the Earth, women, people of color, our animal friends, and religious and sexual minorities.        

            I hope that we, as a collective, can enter the New Year with a renewed sense of hope and conviction regarding the preciousness of the Earth, and of all sentient beings. We have seen the power of solidarity and activism most recently at Standing Rock, and have also witnessed the resurgence of a renewed women’s movement following the presidential election.

            The time to tackle these environmental and reproductive rights issues is now. As was once often heard, uttered in the cries of protesters and activists during the political turmoil that followed the Wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, the world can’t wait.

References

Gaard, G. (2010). Ecofeminism. Temple University Press.

Written by: Rebecca Marcelina Gimeno, MA.

Duquesne University

Misogyny is Played Out: A Demand for Music that Empowers the Sexes, without Sexism // Aimee M. Poleski, M.A.

Img source: http://soulumd.blogspot.com

            Hip hop has long been characterized by its gritty strength and power to energize a diverse audience through kinetic beats rooted in dynamic rhythms and commanding bass.  Early forms of hip hop unearthed culture of African American communities, allowing widespread exposure to culture rich with pride, drive, and an eclectic range of talent. The world came to love hip hop in both pure and polluted forms as artists broke upon the scene, leaving a legacy of a legend or a one-hit-wonder.  Despite the tenacious appeal of hip hop, a love of the music genre poses a problem.  Hip hop has remained entrenched with misogyny.  It perpetuates a culture of demeaning attitudes and behavior toward women.  As one female music reporter stated early in her career, “As much as women love hip hop, it doesn’t love us back (Iandoll, 2012).”       

            Hip hop emanated when cultural traditions met city life. West African story telling in musical forms became integrated with a rising culture comprised, in part, of graffiti, deejaying, break-dancing, and rap (Layne, 2014).  These elements led to the emergence of a new form of music in the Bronx, New York in the 1970s (Adam & Fuller, 2006).  As the economic and racial composition within the Bronx changed, so did the social problems residents endured.  Hip hop became an outlet for people of color to respond to oppression (Layne, 2014).  A new way of life led to the birth of an art form that has withstood changing trends, norms, and values within communities world-wide. 

            The next decade unceremoniously infiltrated hip hop with sexism. Racial themes and oppression of women arose from racist and sexist ideals established by dominant, White culture and the rise of capitalism (Layne, 2014).  Exploitation of women was initially reflected in hip hop lyrics in the 1980s, when groups such as N.W.A. and 2 Live Crew emerged. These performers left a legacy that traps many of us in moments of nostalgia when their music hits the ear.  However, they set the stage for a new standard in respect to a woman’s place in the world. Despite the medium being used to express various emotions, misogyny became a prominent theme in hip hop (Adam & Fuller, 2006).  Often over sexualized and the favored target of domination by men, rap lyrics portrayed women as submissive, disposable orifices.

            Female artists arose despite attempts to exclude women from the genre.  Artists such as Queen Latifah and Salt-N-Pepa created room for empowerment.  These women combatted the hypermasculine culture through boasting ideas surrounding safe sex and independence from men (Rhodes, 2013).  Yet progress was short-lived despite a handful of women breaking barriers.  Demeaning attitudes and behavior toward women proved to transcend the onset of a strong female presence in hip hop culture. While Black women were initially targets of racially charged sexism, misogyny within the genre would eventually be generalized to women of all backgrounds.  Women, as a collective group, became the ultimate target.

Queen Latifah was one of the first female hip hop artists, who preached messages of equality and empowerment.  Pro-equality lyrics were evident in her song U.N.I.T.Y. (1993,12):

Instinct leads me to another flow

Every time I hear a brother call a girl a bitch or a ho

Trying to make a sister feel low

You know all of that gots to go

Now everybody knows there's exceptions to this rule

Now don't be getting mad when we playing, it's cool

But don't you be calling out my name

I bring wrath to those who disrespect me like a dame

            Female independence was a promising theme in lyrics, but ultimately became a hybrid of sexist stereotypes.  One example is the “bad bitch.”  The bad bitch concept created a misleading representation of what a strong woman is and how she presents. The bad bitch describes the woman who asserts herself onto those around her, successfully manipulating others through a fiery attitude.  In turn, she is able to dominate even men. (Adam & Fuller, 2006).  However, the concept shifted to define a woman that uses dominance in conjunction with self-exploitation to achieve a goal (Layne, 2014).  A similar brazen stereotype in hip hop is the “ho,” or the sexually promiscuous female, referred to in various fashions over time.  While this type of female is looked down upon, negative views are often juxtaposed with idealization. The distorted portrayal of the sexually promiscuous woman enmeshes enamor and disgust through encouraging a woman to engage in sex.  She is praised if she behaves in line with the stereotype yet insulted in the same respect.  This woman is also dismissed if she does not fulfill men’s expectations of how she should use her body.  A woman’s innate sexuality, as well as her desire for positive attention and independence, are preyed upon by misogynistic themes within machismo, hip hop culture.  Trending terms have changed over time, but the message remains the same.

Lil Wayne is known for sexually explicit content in many of his rhymes.  In a verse featured on Drake’s song, I’m Goin’ In (2009, 5), his lyrics portray violence as an integrated component of sexual dominance through linking sexual references with a term used to describe a deadly gun shot:

Bad to the bristle

Hat to the rizzle

I'm so official all I need is a whistle

Bitch named Crystal

 Let her suck my pistol

She opened up her mouth

And then I blow her brains out

In his track U.O.E.N.O (2013, 4), Rick Ross describes taking advantage of a woman after drugging her.  His lyrics indicate a woman was date raped, and he boasts about the woman being entirely unaware that sexual assault has occurred:

Put Molly all in her champagne

She ain't even know it

I took her home, and I enjoyed that

She ain't even know it

            Misogynistic themes contribute to women being at risk. Aggressive behavior toward women is shown to increase after being exposed to music with misogynistic lyrics (Greitemeyer, Hollingdale, & Traut-Mattausch, 2012).  Priming occurs, which has short-term and long-term effects on attitudes and behavior toward women.  Lyrics blur sexuality and obtainment of romantic, personal, or professional goals, leading to distorted perceptions of what women should strive for and by what means.  Dichotomous messages may not effect a self-actualized woman, but to an impressionable young woman, lyrics matter.  Most importantly, sexist lyrics lead to desensitization, which becomes dangerous if listeners are effected by aggressive, sexual themes.  Ultimately, the effect of sexist lyrics increases the potential of women being subjected to sexual assault and violence (Adam & Fuller, 2006). 

            Conversely, lyrical content can also improve people’s perception of women.  Songs that contain pro-equality lyrics or those that are absent of content inciting objectification of women are associated with positive attitudes and behavior toward women (Greitemeyer, Hollingdale, & Traut-Mattausch, 2012). Despite this, it is an unfortunate reality that pro-equality lyrics in hip hop are rare, if not non-existent.  Some women, such as the Crunk Feminist Collective (CFC), are maintaining a love for the music and hip hop culture while adhering to core feminist values as a diverse group of scholars and professionals. Pro-equality content has the potential of increasing the image and treatment of women, and a love of hip hop can be embraced while still striving for a world that better reflects women’s true worth and potential.

Goodie Mob’s, Beautiful Skin (1998, 6), is absent of sexist lyrics.  As group members rap and sing about women’s worth, notably that of Black women, they present as feeling nearly indebted to the female sex. Lyrics liken a woman to a queen worthy of utmost respect.  At times more of a plea than a tribute, they express deep admiration for females and call for self-respect among women. By referring to a woman as a “sister,” the artists portray women as equal to men:

At one time my mind just couldn't conceive

A woman had to dress a certain way to believe

But, in the same breath allow me to say

That if you believed young lady you wouldn't dress that way

And I was attracted to your class, I couldn't see all yo' ass

And I was very content, and you deserved every compliment

Now, remember our indifferences make us the same

You gotta have some game, or

You ain't even gonna be able to take care of yourself

And Love when I look at you I see my reflection

So I offer my love, affection, and protection

Shawty, you dead fine, but the bottom-line is

You're still my sister

            Our society must advocate for an absence of misogynistic lyrics in music. Sexism is an integral part of music overall, with even female performers doing little to promote equality in some cases.  No woman, certainly not the lover of hip hop, will escape being victimized by a culture that demands women succumb to exploitation through sexualizing oneself as a means to an end. Women and men are worthy of escaping to music that empowers every human being. The woman who truly creates her own world and defines herself is the model for the hip hop world, and her resilience carries more weight than the dominant force of misogynistic culture. Likewise, it is time to move past holding men to unrealistic standards of masculinity.  Our music should better reflect the true potential of women and men. Music that can be categorized as microwaved garbage in its sound or content should be easily dismissed and receive little support.   We all deserve better, and it is time we demand it.

Written by: Aimee M. Poleski, M.A.

References

Adams, T. M., & Fuller, D. B. (2006). The words have changed but the ideology remains the same: Misogynistic lyrics in rap music. Journal of Black Studies, 36(6), 938- 957.

Crunk Feminist Collective. Mission Statement.Retrieved from http://www.crunkfeministcollective.com/about/

Drake. (2009.)  I’m Goin’ In. On So Far So Gone.  United States: OVO, Young Money             Entertainment, Cash Money Records, and Universal Motown.

Greitemeyer, T., Hollingdale, J., & Traut-Mattausch, E. (2015). Changing the track in       music and misogyny: Listening to music with pro-equality lyrics improves attitudes and behavior toward women. Psychology of Popular Media Culture, 4(1), 56.

Iandoll, K.  (2012.) The chickenhead convention.  Vice.  Retrieved from http://www.vice.comread/the-chickenhead-convention

Latifah, Q.  (1993.)   U.N.I.T.Y.  On Black Reign.United States: Universal Motown.

Layne, A.  (2014.)  Now that’s a bad bitch!: The state of women in hip-hop.  Women’s     Issues.  Retrieved from http://www.hamptioninsitution.org/women-in-hip-hop.html#.WERIJmWMC9Y

Mob, G.  (1998.)  Beautiful Skin.  On Still Standing.  United States: LaFace Records.

Rhodes, H. A. (1993). The Evolution of Rap Music in the United States.  Yale-New          Haven Teachers Institute. Retrieved from http://teachersinstitute.yale.edu/curriculum/units/1993/4/93.04.04.x.html

Ross, R.  (2013.)  U.O.E.N.O.  On Notice Me.  United States: Eastside Corporation.

“How Much Do You Cost?”: A Story of Sexual Neo-Colonialism // Sonasha Braxton

Img source: http://divasays.tumblr.com/post/111756826819/defend-black-womanhood

             

I’ll start at the beginning. Here is who I am…I am an African-American woman. I am 32 years old. I was born in the United States. My parents are from the United States. My parents’ parents are from the United States and so on.  Many of my ancestors were already here…Some of my ancestors were brought here in chains, and sold on auction blocks. I consider myself African by nature, American by nurture.

Once upon a time when I was 21 years old, I was a student at United States International University in Nairobi, Kenya. It was my first time in Africa. I had been there about for about two months, when I was out at a bar with my friends, very close to the campus. My friends and I were all college students, and dressed accordingly so. I walked myself to the bar and took 200ksh out of my pocket to buy myself a beer. Someone tapped me on the shoulder. I turned around. It was a Caucasian male in his late 40s with scraggly hair. This man was slightly out of place in a college bar, but not an unfamiliar sight in the Nairobi nightlife. The music was blaring. I couldn’t hear him well, but he seemed to be pointing to another corner of the bar and making motions towards the beer I had already ordered. I side-eyed him and shook my head. Whatever it was I wasn’t interested. I had what I came for. He tapped me on the shoulder again and motioned for me to bring my ear closer to his lips so he could tell me something without yelling. I sighed and conceded, bending down slightly. “My friend would like to buy you a drink,” he said. I, beer already in hand, raised my beer and pointed to it. “I’m okay! I just bought myself a drink, but thanks!” I sashayed away back to my friends and started dancing.

Scene 2. I was thirsty again. I walked back to the bar. The same 40-something white man with the scraggly hair was there. This time he stood up directly in front of the space I thought I would be able to squeeze into the bar. “My friend wants to buy you a drink! He wants to meet you!” he yelled, again pointing over to some dark corner. At this point somewhat curious, and one Tusker in, I replied “why can’t your friend talk to me himself?”. “He’s shy,” he responded. Amused that we had reverted to middle school interactions, and half expecting him to deliver a paper which said “will you go out with me” with “yes”, “no” and “maybe” as boxes to check, I became curious. I thought, maybe his friend is a cute 20-something Kenyan banker, a gorgeous 30-year old Ugandan lawyer… I thought, who knows. “He’s right over here” he insisted. I said “ok” and followed him just a few steps away from the bar, to a high top in the corner. The friend was an unattractive 50-something Caucasian- American. He greeted me, shook my hand, asked my name, and where I was from. I answered, recoiled my hand, said “nice to meet you, but I’m going to go back to my friends”. He motioned for me to join them. I shook my head and hustled back to the table where my friends were.

Scene 3. Last drink. Same man. Same spot. Same question. Same refusal. Followed by the question, the first of many of the same design, with different accents, languages and configurations, that I would hear often while living in Kenya, “my friend wants to know how much.” I said, “how much what?” totally confused. “My friend wants to know how much it would cost for him to sleep with you?”. What happened next, is somewhat of a blur. I know that a fury engulfed me. I remember walking outside. I felt like I was suffocating. I remember coming back. I remember using a lot of expletives. But what I will never forget is how the situation was resolved. I was asked to leave the club… I was told I was making too much noise. I was disturbing business. This was not the last time something like this would transpire. It would go on to happen in Djibouti, and in Ethiopia, and in Ivory Coast. I, Black woman, minding my own business, sexually propositioned by he, White man with a few dollars in his pocket, was at fault for disrupting a totally unacceptable and disrespectful attempted “transaction”.

           

Since this first occurrence back in my 20s, I have learned to contain myself somewhat better, to learn to listen for the response to the question I now pose genuinely curious, “what makes you think you can buy me?” I have heard everything from “oh I’m sorry…I thought you were from (insert country here)” to “everything can be bought”; everything equally as insulting.  All that these answers have amounted to is this, “as a Black woman, your body is a commodity, that I as a White man, have the right to purchase it/you”. While this is a personal narrative, I do not share this burden alone. It becomes important as it makes the case of what I will call “sexual neo-colonialism,” a legacy of the exploitation of the bodies of women of color. If we understand neo-colonialism, as the last stage of imperialism, as did Kwame Nkrumah, as its most dangerous stage; as a stage in which sovereignty is only a façade and that power is used for “exploitation rather than development,” than we must too understand neo-colonialism as the most dangerous stage not just for the “developing state” but for its people, particularly its women. The African female whether in diaspora or continental stands to lose her sovereignty, and too be exploited, rather than space intentionally made for her to develop herself the way she sees fit.

Colonialism left in its wake the destruction of pre-colonial political, social and economic systems in which women ranked highly, and replaced them first with “native authorities” exclusive of women followed by clientele-patronage systems, which too excluded women.  Women often lost tremendous power during the colonial period as well as economic autonomy. This resulted from women’s exclusion from the global marketplace and new reliance of women’s unpaid labor. Customary laws developed under colonialism and inherited from Europe, disadvantaged women favoring men.  They accorded particular rights to men, such as the right to testify in trials that were closed to women. Women were removed from power as heads of associations often with the final say over market or agricultural disputes, and replaced with men[1]. Simply colonial rule restructured family, sex, gender and sexuality by creating legal mechanisms to control women’s positions in society, positions in their families, and expressions of their sexuality, for the sake of White Western capital.

The trickle-down effect of the disempowerment of the African woman has also emboldened the White hetero male to assume his place in the hierarchy of African affairs is one of superiority, and one in which any Black woman continues to be for sale. This is further reinforced often by the colonial mentality, the internalized colonialism of many members of African society, which favors and in fact protects unfettered white male hetero sexuality and promotes its unbridled exploits. It is this internalized colonialism, in actuality, the reaction of those around her, that asks the Black woman either to suppress her reaction to verbal sexual violence totally, or to react within the confines of what white hetero-males have sanctioned as polite gender normativity; to smile and say “no thank you”, to gently brush away prodding hands, to repeat “no” quietly, avert our eyes, and meekly insist that we decline such advances. This internalized colonialism of its witnesses says she is “overreacting”, when she yells, pushes away, tells, or even says no firmly. It says that “well, most other women would have said yes.”

Someone will say that this will stop when African women stop having relationships with such men. Someone will say that when these women, who may find poverty less miserable than sex with the occasional dream peddling foreigner, simply say no, then all African women will stop being objectified. To which I would respond that until the system that has systematically underdeveloped not only Africa but the entire Global South, a system which has destroyed indigenous spirituality and replaced it with a White savior both hanging in the homes of its believers and walking the streets as sex tourists is dismantled, then Black women, Brown Women, all women of color, will continue to be harmed by it.

This returns me to my story. The man in question was an American. There was no question of impoverished conditions. I clearly stated that I too was American, but this did not prevent the proposition, nor has it on multiple occasions. I, due to the intersectionality of my race and gender, was considered a commodity, buyable, and expendable. I am not the only woman of color who has had such an experience. I often exchange stories with my expat women of color friends, who have often witnessed and experienced the same. The globally internalized white hetero male superiority complex and systemic inherited exploitative North-South relations that support the continued effort to colonize, conquer and commodify the woman of color’s body, as an economic enterprise, must necessarily change, and sexual neo-colonialism, must be destroyed and at last put to rest….

So I will finish at the beginning. I am an African-American woman. I am 32 years old. I was born in the United States. My parents are from the United States. My parents’ parents are from the United States and so on.  Many of my ancestors were already here. Some of my ancestors were brought here in chains, and sold on auction blocks. But, “How much do I cost?”…I am priceless. We are priceless. Not even on the auction block were my ancestors’ souls for sale.  

The President-Elect and the Future of Fat-Shaming // Jen Trimpey, M.S.

jpeg from: http://thesheaf.com/2014/01/31/you-count-more-than-calories-eating-disorders-illuminated/

            I’m an 8+ hours of sleep type of person. When I wake up in the morning, I have a tendency to be irritable, confused, or just generally disoriented. Back home for the holidays, my mom will tentatively ask me every morning if I’m “the beauty or the beast.” Usually it’s the beast: I stumble around, make copious amounts of coffee, and sit cross-legged in front of a mirror on the floor foggily forgetting that I’ve only applied mascara to one eyelash.

I do one other thing in my morning routine: I talk to myself. I tell myself I am beautiful even though I might have eaten too much pizza the night before. I tell myself that I have value even though I ate 3 donuts that someone brought to work. I tell myself that I am not fat even though, some days, I struggle to believe it. Sometimes I forget that talking to yourself isn’t necessarily the norm. But for me, my emotional and physical wellbeing rely on these personal accolades. I stay healthy and grounded this way; I love and appreciate myself this way; I model these behaviors to teach little girls how to love themselves this way.

This election shook me for too many reasons to be thoroughly and accurately described in this blog post. Of the many, the most personal relates to my eating disordered past. All that self-talk I do in the mornings is simply my response the parts of me that, at one point, unquestioningly believed that societal standards of beauty were my standards of beauty. In my adolescence, these standards dominated my view-of-self, which eventually resulted in the development of an eating disorder. My rural upbringing in Alaska didn’t protect me from absorbing media and/or social portrayals of “femininity” and “beauty.” Now then, what do we do to protect children growing up in the mainstream United States with a president who endorses the (untrue) societal, gendered standards that espouse oppressive views directed towards women and girls? How do we help them understand that what their president thinks about their bodies is not indicative of their actual value? 

The morning after the election, I felt as though the world was ending. I woke up a mere 4 hours after I fell asleep (not necessarily the best thing to happen to an 8+ hours-of-sleep woman), scrolled through the News application on my phone, and then tried to cry myself back to sleep. It didn’t work. Reluctantly, I went through my groggy, stumbling-for-coffee morning routine, but couldn’t seem to shake the fact that this election’s results meant more to me than I expected. I thought he had no chance, so I never questioned what it would mean if my President told me, albeit implicitly through his words to other women, that I’m “Miss Piggy,” “fat,” “ugly,” or that I need to “suck [my] gut in.”[1] Turns out, it meant quite a bit. As I tried to process what had happened, I couldn’t seem to stop thinking that the election results meant that my country had told me that I’m nothing if I’m not thin, perfect, and beautiful. I cried for myself that morning. But mostly I cried for all the little girls (and boys) who will grow up with a president who—whether he meant it or not—told them that they aren’t good enough simply the way they are.

Grasping for hope in the throes of my mid-election blues, I decided to re-read The Feminine Mystique. In the introduction to my edition, Freidan cites a quote she wrote in her first autographed copy of the seminal piece, which stated, “Courage to us all on the new road.”[2] While the quote was not initially directed at the new president-elect’s term, it still appeared to give me the courage I needed to hope and advocate for something different. It seems so easy (and much less tiring) to give up, but we are on a new road and in dire need of courage. Even though I’m not quite sure how yet, it now seems more important that I advocate for the children who may internalize their future president’s words. My hope (among many other hopes) is that we teach children from both red and blue families that their worth isn’t connected to their appearance or weight, even if that might be a tiring endeavor. And, since our president may hesitate to remind children of that, the responsibility now falls on us—on me—to not complacently follow my tiredness, irritation or frustration. Rather, now it’s my time to fight: not only for myself, but also for everyone else out there experiencing similar emotions or sentiments.

Written by: Jen Trimpey, M.S.

           

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[1] Commins, L. (2016, September 29). 15 times Donald Trump fat-shamed Kim Kardashian, Jennifer Lopez, and more. Retrieved from www.cosmopolitian.com/

politics/a4260297/donald-trump-fat-shaming

[2] Freidan, B. (2001). The Feminine Mystique (10^th ed.). New York, NY: W.W. Norton & Company. 

Rape Culture: It’s Almost Everywhere // Renee Hangartner, M.A.

Img source: http://fabnewz.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/10/greys-anatomy-season-13.png

Maybe there’s a theme; but I again found my inspiration for this blog from the magic that is Shonda Rhimes.  Here’s some necessary background.  The last several weeks have been stressful and rewarding. I coordinated a successful SPW event to raise awareness about sexual violence against women on November 18^th and 10 days later I successfully proposed my dissertation, which is on sexual harassment. Unfortunately, I’ve fallen behind on my favorite shows, like Grey’s Anatomy. My reward for a successful proposal defense was to play hooky and catch up on my favorite show. Okay, I only played hooky for 2 hours, it still counts.  Anyway, episode 2 of season 13 included two strong statements to counteract rape culture, and I know a light bulb went off above my head despite any empirical evidence to support such a claim.

  First, in a neurotic rant about a guy between Meredith Grey and Maggie (her half-sister), Meredith boldly points out that the qualifier of “gross” is unnecessary when describing sexual harassment as there is “only [one] kind of sexual harassment”. I say “thank you Meredith and thank you Shonda”. If you watch Grey’s Anatomy and missed that tidbit, it might be worth your time to go back and feel that sense of pride I felt. Later, when a couple of surgeons are excited about removing a tumor that a patient has named after her husband’s mistress Wilma, violent language is used to get everyone pumped up about the procedure. An intern (Wilson) is clearly triggered by the enthusiasm about violence against “Wilma”, because while everyone is excited to remove the tumor, they are using a women’s name in conjunction with such violent language. This is an excellent example of how violence against women is normalized.  She points that out to her superior, another female surgeon. Side-bar-did I mention that one of the reasons I love this show is the abundance of strong female characters and persons of color playing DOCTORS? Anyway, that entire scene is another display of saying something when you see something.

Perhaps I’m primed because of my research and activism activities to attend to scenes like this in popular culture; but I feel it’s also my responsibility to point them out when I see them.  There are so many normalized interactions and phrases that promote rape culture in our everyday lives that make scenes like these, on prime time TV, precious.