Not much is known about the Danish duo Kill J.

via Ja Ja Ja Music

Composed of Kill (Lennart Rasmussen, producer) and J (Julie Aargard, vocals), the duo has released a few tracks from their upcoming debut, to be released on the Sound of Copenhagen/Chess Club Records labels. Based on their scintillating mix (featuring J Kill’s unreleased “Dope High” & “Nun with a Son and a Gun”), their influences are wide-ranging, their output is equally diverse in tone and genre, and J’s message even broaches feminism in the mix’s description:

This here my female perspective.

Is it the one you expected?

Is it the one you rejected?

Is it the one you wanna fuck?

Their latest track, “You Have Another Lover”, pairs a downtempo beat with J’s piercing voice, reminiscent of FKA Twigs’s work. A B-side from their vinyl of “Bullet”, the track is promising for their début. Listen to it via Soundcloud.

Last March, they released their first single, “Bullet“, which was also remixed by Oceaán (a fellow affiliate of Chess Club Records). In an interview with Clash Magazine, the track’s dedicated to “the victims of other people’s bullshit.”

Follow them on Twitter and Soundcloud.

By Ragnar Jónsson, Co-Editor in Chief

Image Courtesy of Ja Ja Ja Music

When I think of technology, I imagine launching massive metallic satellites into planetary orbit and digitally reconstructed images of dinosaurs.

“Appropriate technology” rests in peace as a buzzword of the 70s, long replaced by the synonymous, more savvy “sustainable development.”

Meanwhile, our current mode of disinfecting our consciousness from the pollutions of capitalism rests upon our excessive creation of NGOs and socially-responsible start-ups. There are so many competing against one another with contradictory modes of intervention that many lose sight of their goals, are detrimental to communities, and wasteful of resources.

How can we keep track of all of them and rate the effectiveness, saving the good parts and wrenching the bad ones?

Economic poverty, cultural beliefs, rural locales and systemic discrimination may limit a woman’s access to care and health resources. Operating as a virtual marketplace, Maternova assembles the globe’s best low-resource technologies for women and infant care for bulk purchase by other organizations and midwife use.

They research and review technologies, determine its durability and effectiveness for low-resource settings in which they are meant to be used. Then, they make bulk purchases of these technologies so they can be resold to those in need for more affordable prices, acting as a broker of relevant, and most appropriate gadgets. Maternova’s self-reliant approach positions women’s and prenatal health back in the hands of midwives and non-medicalized professional communities. And, as revealed by a recent study, investing in midwives yields a 16-fold return in a community.

Here’s a few well-reviewed gadgets:

1. HeartStrings:

measure of fetal heart tones created by Mother Health International

This simple patent protected technology was developed in Uganda to listen to and evaluate fetal heart rates in pregnant women The simple technology uses a timer as well as beads on a string and a color coded decision-making system to empower midwives to determine the health of a fetus in utero.

2. Cycle Beads:

visualizing family planning

CycleBeads, a color-coded string of beads representing a woman’s menstrual cycle, is a family planning tool that helps a woman track her cycle, identify whether she is on a fertile day or a non-fertile day, and monitor that her cycles are in range for effective use of this family planning method. Plan or prevent pregnancy easily and effectively with this family planning tool.

3. ThermoSpot:

stick-on reusable thermoindicators for newborns

The ThermoSpot is a non-invasive hypothermia indicator for infants. It is a single 12 mm flexible plastic disc that sticks directly onto the skin and can remain on for as long as 7-10 days. It is for use in a facility by a clinician, by a community health worker or by a parent. The device changes color when the baby’s core body temperature changes, allowing it to be understood even by a non-literate parent. When it is black the child has severe hypothermia. Note that the device has been tested in Malawi, Nepal and India.

4. Solar Headlamp Visor:

for rural areas without electricity

Solar-powered clip headlamp and adjustable visor useful for seeing births and/or walking in a dark area. The headlamp is a single rechargeable unit–no unwieldy cords or batteries involved. Photovoltaic panels recharge lithium batteries. The headlamp will charge even if sunlight is not hitting it directly, such as through a window. Each hour that the headlamp is in the sun will provide one hour of light for up to 12 hours. It is also useful for any kind of community health worker who needs to see to manage drug regimens, medical records or look at patients in dim light!! We also have customers buying the headlamp for all kinds of agricultural work as well.

5. Haemoglobin Color Scale:

to check for anemia

This colour scale is WHO-approved and accurately measures haemoglobin levels in the blood by using the colour of the blood on a test strip and comparing to the colour chart. Results of the anemia check are immediate. It is the lowest cost hemoglobinometer on the market. Studies show that it can be used in children and adults.

By Chanelle Adams, Co-Editor in Chief

All descriptions from maternova.net

It’s my first Fourth of July away from home. Home being a tiny township in the middle of New Mexico, about a twenty minute ride from the Navajo Reservation where I was born. To me, Independence Day has always been one of those holidays celebrated with a vague understanding of its origins. I grew up not questioning why we’d light explosives in the middle of the desert during the driest month of the year, eat hot dogs and wear tacky red white and blue tie-dye t-shirts from Walmart. As a rule of thumb, I tend to not question celebrations that make hot dogs readily available, but my mother is Navajo and my father is Black and the more I learn about the “founding” of this country on my ancestors’ land and with their forced labor, the harder it is to accept the celebration.

It gets difficult separating pre and post 9/11 nationalism because the latter made up the most of my childhood, but little things remind me there was a shift. I was in the first grade and late to school September 11, 2001. Later in the week we colored American flags and I can’t remember a day without  “United We Stand” posters hanging in restaurant windows and small American flags leaning out of pen cups in offices afterward.  My paternal grandparents were Jehovah’s Witnesses and told me to refrain from reciting the Pledge of Allegiance [as they regarded it as a form of false idol worship], but my teacher threatened to send me to the office if I didn’t start participating later in the year. I complied.

Neighbors eventually neglected to replace their American flags and posters until they became tattered and faded. Since then, something occasionally brings out this brand of nationalism that “unites” Americans like the death of Osama bin Laden, the World Cup, or the Fourth of July. It’s characterized by rowdy U-S-A chants, a shirtless guy with the American flag draped around his shoulders, and #TeamUSA. The Internet age has made a parody of it — turning it into an amalgamation of “Murica!”  Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter, and “Back to Back World War Champs” tank tops. Somewhere along the way Americans started taking pride in stereotypes that they’re arrogant and use brute force to get what they want. This might have started this out as a joke, but it quickly became a genuine way to express patriotism. And it makes sense to me in a way — 9/11 invoked confusion, anger and sadness and Americans coped with these feelings together, fostering a unique sense of pride and unity in the process.

When I don’t express the same enthusiasm for this country that many Americans have, often the attitude I’m given suggests I should be grateful for the sacrifices service people have made because in some way, their fighting has allowed me to at least live in my homelands (under American occupation). After all, Ira Hayes (Pima) is in the iconic photo of the raising of the flag in Iwo Jima and Navajo Code Talkers were vital to eliciting Japanese surrender in the Pacific. The first casualty of the Revolutionary War was Crispus Attucks, a Black and Wampanoag man. Native Americans have the highest enrollment rate in the military of any ethnic group in the U.S. with Black people not far behind. If so many people like me have defended this country and perhaps managed to find a love for it, why does the Fourth make me uncomfortable?

There’s something about the frequent contrast between the poverty on the rez and immaculate Ivy League buildings as I travel between home and college that rubs me the wrong way. It’s hard for me to celebrate the past when I live with its most visible and unrelenting consequences. Most people have an axe to grind with mainstream American culture or government. But the way I see it as a Native person, the American government wasn’t supposed to be here to begin with. How can I celebrate this country declaring its independence from a power that had no right to be here anyway? And as a Black person, how do I celebrate a country that declared all men are created equal while it enslaved my ancestors? How can I feel united with a country that continues to not acknowledge my existence yet arrogantly tells me to appreciate “freedom is not free”?

“Freedom” cost my ancestors their bodies and mental health at war for a country that continues to not acknowledge their humanity or mine. On the Fourth, Americans celebrate the “founding” of a country where my Navajo relatives lack running water and electricity on the reservation. A country where my unarmed father may be gunned down by the police for looking suspicious. I never signed up for this “freedom”: the cost was simply deducted from my account without my permission.

Time after time I’ve tried to find love for this country, only to come up with handfuls of indifference or profound sadness or only a sense of pride in being Black and Navajo. I’m still processing my own feelings of confusion, anger, and sadness over slavery and genocide. If anything, others’ nationalism and the Fourth itself inspire my own wishful thinking that perhaps in my lifetime I might live in a country that fully acknowledges my ancestors’ histories and humanity. Perhaps one day I’ll find a sense of unity and better excuse to eat hot dogs.

By Myacah Sampson, Contributing Writer

Regina Larre Campuzno (Maladama) and Valerie Peczek (Valey) have teamed up in their Oberlin afterlives to start a music production group that works with “female, trans*, and gender non-conforming performers” [1] to share their music and empower communities through education. Flor Veinte Collective makes music performance more inclusive and accessible to all people through promoting gender and cultural equality.

This summer Flor Veinte launches it’s first tour across the East Coast and the Midwest playing shows in 14 cities. The duo will be offering workshops (conducted in both Spanish and English) that will teach trans* youth and young girls songwriting, improvisation, performance techniques, and basic soldering skills to make contact microphones.

Fresh like a flower, Flor Veinte Collective is a much needed and awaited departure from a generally male-dominated music scene. Help them support their summer tour and workshops by donating to their Kickstarter and check them out in a city near you!

With the premiere of female and trans* music collective, Flor Veinte, we’ve had the chance to talk with Regina Larre Campuzano about sobre feminism, creativity, and the new Kickstarter campaign for the Flor Veinte Collective.

Tristan: Hi Regina!!! Can you introduce yourself to our readers?

Regina: Hi, my name is Regina Larre Campuzano and I am an electronic musician and improviser from Mexico City. On stage I go by “Maladama” which translates to “Bad lady” and I’m one of the founders of Flor Veinte, a music collective dedicated to spreading the music of female and trans musicians.

T: What is a music collective? How did you form Flor Veinte Collective?

R: A music collective is a community of artists that support each other’s art. We share each others music, we collaborate, we ask each other for advice, we share gigs and we all take care of each other. Flor Veinte Collective was formed by Valerie Perczek (Valey), Sally Decker (Seirenes) and myself in a very organic way, because in the. hyper-male-dominated music scene of the place that we lived in, it was really important for us to know that we had other really inspiring womyn backing us up and ready to collaborate. Most of us also had some kind of role in giving workshops to all-girl schools or teaching young teens about media, and we realized how important it is to see yourself as having a place and a right to make art. Flor Veinte is us making that creative energy we share with each other more “concrete” and trying to share it with other people that might want to be a part of it.

T: Can you describe some of the music that comes out of the collective?

R: As of today, Flor Veinte sounds a lot like electropop mixed with weird experimental noise-pop and dreamy loopbased healing music. However, we are not trying to make this a genre based collective. We each bring really different things to the table and that’s what is so cool about it. Overall, I think our music shares a special kind of honesty, because we are the writers, the performers, the producers and our music is the unadulterated product of our own experiences.

T: Was feminism always part of your consciousness or did something catalyze your perspective?

R: To be honest, I don’t think I always understood feminism the way that I do now. It wasn’t until I started playing drums and having my own grunge bands that male privilege became clear to me. I was never going to stop “playing like a girl” or getting criticized for playing in a dress unless I was a hundred times better than anyone in the room, and even then people would notice the dress more than anything. I was brought up in a household that was “gender blind” and was always told that you had to work for what you earned. What I didn’t understand until later was how much harder you had to work if you were a womyn, and how much of the sexism that had to be overcomed was internalized from years of seeing womyn and trans musicians as a rarity.

T: I’m sure there had to be a moment before you decided to start Flor Veinte when you realized that this kind of project is super important. Can you think of a time when you realized having a community of women and trans* musicians would’ve been really nice?

R: When we were in college we all played improvised experimental music in an incredible feminist ensemble called WAM (Women in Art Music) and the energy that came from it was unreal. It is surprisingly difficult to play music in an all female and/or trans lineup, and when it happens, there is a really special kind of freedom that comes with it. However it is really easy to end up being the only womyn or trans artist in a show with 5 or 6 bands, and no matter how nice everyone else is, it is still alienating. We really want that to change. It’s not that we want less dudes making music, we simply want to encourage more womyn and trans folks to put their stuff out there, to play more gigs and know that they don’t have to do it alone.

T: When I was younger, I never really knew how to be a champion for myself and girl guitarists because I didn’t have nearly as many choices as the boys when it came to picking out a role model. I think a lot of girls are taught to not ask questions about this male-dominated structure where women who play music are often pitted against each other (Example A: Q Magazine interview with Bjork, PJ Harvey, Tori Amos). How do you think your project will help change this?

R: One of the most common things that we run into when we talk to people booking shows is them saying some variation of: “I would love to book more women but there aren’t many good ones around, and I don’t want to book them just because they are women. That would be sexist.” And the thing is most of the people that say this are genuinely wonderful people that are concerned, but this is a structural problem that is much larger than them. There are plenty of rad womyn and trans folks out there making awesome music, they are just not getting the right kind of buzz. The big problem is that when they don’t get heard, young female and trans aspiring musicians are missing out on role models, and perpetuating the stereotype that art creation is mostly for dudes. Our dream is to have the exact antidote for that. We hope to get so many people on board making such different kinds of music, that we have genre tabs in our website, precisely so that “women musician” is not a genre anymore.

A really important part of our project is that the artists in the collective are also educators. Wouldn’t it have been awesome to have St. Vincent come to your school and teach you how to play some crazy overtone guitar techniques? We want to claim ownership of our skills and talents and start breaking the stereotype of the mystical and extraordinary female and trans musician: they are people that have worked hard, played a lot, practiced a lot, and believed in themselves enough to take really big chances. We should all have that kind of confidence in our own vision.

T: What kind of workshops will you be hosting this summer?

R: We are hosting workshops on instrument building, improvisation and performance at summer camps and community centers. In these workshops students will learn how to solder their own contact microphones (which can turn any object into an instrument), basic audio reinforcement, deep listening techniques, improvising and even some movement. The idea is to build confidence in their abilities as performers, but also to have students listen to themselves, their peers and their immediate surroundings, in order to make music that is deeply personal and unique to their experiences.

T: You seem to be placing a strong emphasis on incorporating Spanish into Flor Veinte. How and why did you decide to host workshops in Spanish?

R: I am from Mexico City and Val is the daughter of Colombian parents, Spanish is second -or in my case first- nature to us. It’s in our roots. Something that is really important to all of us is that this collective allows a space for people to embrace the entirety of their identities, and that includes their culture. According to the U.S. Census Bureau there are 38.3 million people in the US that speak Spanish as their primary language at home. Although there are other wonderful organizations teaching kids how to make their own electronics or how to be better performers, most of them do not reach this huge part of the population who also deserves to be heard.

T: What was it like growing up in Mexico City?

R: In Mexico “like a girl” is definitely still an insult for most people, and the music scene was really hard to navigate as a female musician, particularly if you were not a singer. However, that has been changing a lot, and in the last few years, the experimental and improvised music scene that has developed there seems to be a lot more supportive of women. I was lucky enough to grow up in a really nurturing household, and to have an amazing mother that never tried to dissuade me from being an artist, even if she didn’t quite “get” the kind of music I was making. People like Juana Molina, Ely Guerra, Bjork, Natalia Lafourcade and Lila Downs have been huge influences for me, because they are constantly evolving and reinventing their art in ways that push the boundaries of their genres and keep challenging their listeners with new material, new takes on traditional repertoire, and with sounds that they have never heard before.

T: What would you like to achieve, as an artist and with the collective, in the years to come?

R: To rule the world! My first hope for the years to come is for us to be able to continue doing music and outreach to this level. It isn’t a secret that earning a living as an emerging musician can be a nightmare, but my dream is that we can make that a reality for all of the members of the collective, which we hope will continue to grow and evolve so that we can reach more communities at any given time. My goal is to be able to have sustained partnerships with community centers and that someday, some of the kids we are working with will join Flor Veinte as artists themselves. Wouldn’t that be a amazing?

T: Definitely! Final question: What do you think is cool about being a womyn?

R: I think there have been thousands of funk, punk, rock and all sorts of dude bands that have explored most corners of each genre they belonged to. But, there is still so much uncharted territory for the female and trans perspective in music. That is really exciting to me! We have the chance of bringing in new voices and narratives to the table. If we want to, we can get away with anything because nobody is expecting it. We can sound like things that have never been heard before and that is a really empowering sort of freedom. Besides, we are beautiful and badass, and no one can deny that!

By Tristan Cimini, Summer Staff Writer

[1] “About Us.” Flor Veinte Collective. http://www.florveintecollective.com/#!about-us/cjtk (accessed 28 June 2014).

“We’ve got to take it back. We sleep to sew the seams that we oppose. We shrink to fit in our pre-assigned roles. Resist with each stitch. Split the seams and start all over again. Cut the pattern that fits. Ready-made rarely means ready to fit. A bleached white tightness to bind and gag and scold … The lines we fought to fit have now become our own. … We cannot be tied down by roughly cut threads from the patterns of the CEOS. … They need no spokesman if you have no voice.”

-Milemarker, Shrink to Fit

Photo by Timothy A. Clary/AFP/Getty Images

In 1993, Ruth Bader Ginsberg was appointed to the United States Supreme Court. It was also the year that newly elected President Bill Clinton signed into law the North American Free Trade Agreement (NAFTA), Don’t Ask Don’t Tell (DADT), and the Religious Freedom Restoration Act (RFRA). The year ended with the Barbie Liberation (BLO) effectively jamming our over-saturated binary gender culture by switching the voice boxes on over 300 talking G.I. Joe and Barbie dolls. Instead of Barbie saying, “Math is hard,” we heard “Vengeance is mine.”

Over 20 years have passed since the murder of Doctor David Gunn, the first documented murder of an abortion doctor. The World Trade Center had its first bombing so we bombed Iraq and have not left since. We have lived with the greedy consequences of NAFTA, bore witness to the repeal of DADT, and now understand the strategic appropriation of the religious right to use RFFA as a master’s tool to keep the master’s house intact.

RFRA is the federal law that the Supreme Court used to rule in favor of Hobby Lobby and now sets the precedent to allow private for-profit corporations to “exercise religious freedom” equating corporate entities ever closer to breathing conscious “persons.”

According to Hobby Lobby’s attorney Lori Windham, Senior Counsel at the Becket Fund for Religious Liberty, ”Today’s victory against this unjust mandate is important for… all Americans who seek to live according to their consciousness.” She then declared that women’s voices have been heard.

Much has already been written about the Supreme Court Hobby Lobby decision – its potential impact on people who receive contraception benefits from their employer’s insurance plans and the relentless chipping away of reproductive health and justice access for low-income communities of color (See RH Reality Check for the most comprehensive analysis on this unprecedented ruling).

But beyond the immediate, we face a terrifyingly near future where Atwood’s Handmaid’s Tale is no longer a science fiction fantasy. The dystopic reality we face today is a false sense of private choice. Sadly, for those of us who personally experience the daily struggle of living in poverty, this ruling isn’t likely going to change the way we go about our business. We have history on our side and have embodied our oppressions.

When we push aside the illogical and scientifically wrong argument that the four contraceptives in dispute, which were incorrectly institutionalized as abortifacients (IUDs, two forms of emergency contraception, and contraceptive implants), the underlying issue reveals itself as the control of sexuality, which has always been a matter of public discourse and policy. And that discourse is abilist, racialized, classist, cisgendered, and heteronormative.

In an ironic statement after the ruling, Randall Wenger who is part of the Conestoga Wood legal team (the other now infamous private for-profit corporation) noted, “The announcement provides what we had hoped. There are limits on government power.”

It is true that Hobby Lobby does not object to their employees receiving vasectomies, condoms, or Viagra. The pivotal point where they felt a “sincere” threat to their religious liberties rested on the concept of who controls the implantation of a fertilized egg, the subsequent hospitality of the host’s uterus, and the hopeful birth of a human (not to be confused with a corporation) that should only result from legally sanctioned heterosexual coupling.

It is equally true that our legal system, founded and maintained to uphold the ruling class, would publicly reinforce who really controls the miracle of life.

It’s too soon to know if this stain will wash out or give birth to new categories of corporate life. So instead of shrinking to fit, we will reimagine a culture where power empowers instead of dominates. We will continue to violate norms and resist the lines that divide and conquer us. We will embrace our contradictions and support the collective public struggle of the matters of our private lives.

By Ginger Hintz, Blog Editor

Imagine sitting in the same room as Toni Morrison and being able to ask her a question, face to face.

Unlike many other speaker series on campus, the Brown Lecture Board opens the floor to the entire student body (rather than niche enclaves) to vote on a speaker. This is one of the few opportunities for Brown students to decide whose pockets get filled with University money.

by David Levine for the New York Review of Books (November 19, 1992)

After an overall success this year for Brown Lecture Board (3 events and the first-ever speaker panel), we’re back to the polls again. Other than RJ Mitte’s ending remarks about wishing for a “color-blind world,” we sat at this spring’s panel soaking up the radiance of Laverne Cox without too many cringe-worthy moments.

Perhaps this vote would be up for debate if the decision were between Toni Morrison, Angela Davis, and the ghost of Frida Kahlo. But this year, Brown Lecture Board has given us the simple choice between Mindy Kaling, Toni Morrison, Kevin Spacey, Jane Goodall, and Sir Ian Murray McKellen.

But really, imagine breathing the same air as Toni Morrison.

“The thought that leads me to contemplate with dread the erasure of other voices, of unwritten novels, poems whispered or swallowed for fear of being overheard by the wrong people, outlawed languages flourishing underground, essayists’ questions challenging authority never being posed, unstaged plays, canceled films—that thought is a nightmare. As though a whole universe is being described in invisible ink.”

Official Bluestockings Ballot for Brown Lecture Board Fall 2014

1: Toni Morrison has received both the Nobel and Pulitzer Prize as well as the Presidential Medal of Freedom. She wrote Beloved as mother of two children while teaching at Howard University. Her novels are notable for richly developed black characters, particularly compelling narratives of black women. She was the first black woman writer to hold a named chair at an Ivy League institution.

2: Jane Goodall reinforces #feminismisforwhitewomen and believes that a woman’s main role should be to bear children (which is actually something she was trying to prove with her chimpanzee research). However, she is valuable to messages about women in science and her recent partnership with Vandana Shiva looks promising.

3: While we have love for Mindy Kaling‘s self-depricating humor (see last year’s Blog Daily Herald pick), her show is hella problematic in the ways it upholds values of white supremacy.

4:  “You shall not pass!” Why bring Sir Ian Murray McKellen all the way across the pond just to hear him say that line? We could ask him about his activism, but half the audience won’t bother to read that he was a LGBT activist from the 90s. Or we could just rewatch LOTR on Netflix without him.

5: Kevin $pacey.

If you’re still not entirely clear on why we’d pick Toni over an influential female primatolologist, a WOC in comedy, Gandalf, and a House of Cards star, we kindly ask you to do some soul-searching.

HAPPY VOTING.

By Chanelle Adams, Co-Editor in Chief

At the risk of losing credibility for my five years spent in Cleveland, OH, I confess the stories I was told about Pittsburgh, PA were unfounded. I declaimed the merits of Pittsburgh through prideful ignorance until I visited and saw firsthand the gap between reality and constructed cultural myth. In fact, both cities struggle with precarious economic conditions, a result of rusting industrial thoughts, and both desperately desire to keep young people from moving to shinier cities. This creates possibilities for building community and managing survival and make the LGBTQ scenes in non-”metro normative” cities like Pittsburgh vital spaces of creativity, strength, and expression.

This creative potential can best be witnessed through the eye of the beholder, which is why I was drawn to an interview in Filthy Dreams with queer archivist Caldwell Linker. Linker’s latest exhibition, All Through the Night, at the Andy Warhol Museum until September 15th, exposes the graceful grit of the queer community in Pittsburgh.

Caldwell Linker (photo capture from artist website)

Interviewer Emily Colucci asks Linker to share their thoughts about “the role of photography in archiving and preserving queer bodies and communities”.

Linker’s response:

I would like to think that I don’t preserve an alternate history.  I would like to think that I accurately represent what is going on around me.

One of the most important things to me when working on All Through the Night was authenticity.  I wanted it to feel like an authentic representation of what I’ve been a part of for the past several years.  I didn’t want it to be exploitative, but authentic.  I intentionally left out some more “shocking” or controversial photos because I didn’t want it to be “OOOO, look at my freaky weirdo queer friends”.

On the other hand, I didn’t want to put the pictures through a heteronormative lens and try to make things palatable to “outsiders” (folks not familiar with the queer community). It was a fine line to walk.

As far as how I see my role in archiving and preserving queer bodies and communities, I take what I do very seriously in many ways.  Many years ago, I sat down and tried to figure out what I could do as my part of the overall struggle for equality, what I will call “the struggle”  (not just LGBT rights, but overall equal rights for many disenfranchised groups).  I suck at going to meetings, don’t like chanting, not so great at showing up at the post office or writing letters to Congress people, have pretty poor follow-through, and generally lack many of the skills that make a good activist.  So I decided to document as my form of activism. To me, it is something that is important both now and hopefully in the future.

As for now, when you are dealing with a group of folks, and my folks are primarily queer and trans folks and other people who don’t fit neatly into genderboxes, you are dealing with lots of folks who are regularly told by the outside world that they are wrong and ugly, that their love is not acceptable, their bodies are wrong and ugly, etc.  I like to give folks pictures that show them how wrong society is, that they are beautiful, their love is beautiful, that their bodies are just fine, and that, in general, at least parts of their lives are pretty awesome.  To me, that is part of my activism.

Take a few minutes to read the rest of interview, and if you’re in the area, check out the exhibit. It’s a beautiful testament to living authentic lives.

By Ginger Hintz, Blog Editor (always there to show love for Ohio, the heart of it all)

Content Warning: Rape Culture

“But what about the vengeful women?”

I had just completed my “speech to change an attitude” assignment for Persuasive Communication class, arguing that in sexual assault cases, universities should presume the accused individual’s guilt. The challenge was to speak for ten minutes on a topic with which most of the class disagreed. For my topic, everyone disagreed. Many had questions.

“Won’t all these vengeful women just accuse men of rape to, like, get back at them?

Blood boiling, I could barely collect my thoughts into coherency. I had spent the past ten minutes unraveling the epidemic of sexual assault on college campuses, the inadequacies of the current system for addressing it, and the reasons to use presumption of guilt of the accused instead of innocence.

Some of the statistics might feel familiar, and others less so: one in four college women are assaulted, twelve percent of university cases get reported, three percent of rapists serve time in prison, and the list goes on. The numbers add up to a toxic rape culture – both in college and in society at large – signaling the need for radical change, especially in the way that universities address sexual assault.

Presumption of guilt is radical. It turns the current system, in which we presume innocence until guilt is proven beyond a reasonable doubt, completely on its head. Most importantly, this change does two great things:

1. Presumption of guilt institutionalizes the practice of affirmative consent.

This legal precedent requires individuals to ensure that their partners consent to sex in an ongoing, explicit, and enthusiastic manner.

2. Presumption of guilt relieves some of the trauma of the process from assault survivors.

The survivor no longer has to prove that he/she was assaulted. Sexual assault is traumatic, and the presumption of guilt relieves the survivor of some of the trauma of the process of obtaining justice.

Upon presenting my case, I found myself confronting, face-to-face, the misogynistic culture I had spent the past ten minutes problematizing. In particular, I found myself struggling to decide whether to push back and explain what makes these attitudes problematic or to step back, recognizing that explaining is not my responsibility. In this situation, I wanted to do the former because it terrifies me that my peers do not know better.

“Why didn’t you share your personal experience? It would have made you so much more credible.”

I cringed, folding my bottom lip inside my mouth to activate the “f” sound in “fuck you.” But I stopped, almost involuntarily. I wanted to explain why a survivor of assault should never have to share their story, especially not for the sake of credibility. But I didn’t. Amidst anger, vulnerability, and fear, all I could muster was, “That would have been inappropriate.”

“If we used the presumption of guilt, I would never ask a girl on a date.”

Truthfully, I hoped that this man, unwilling to ensure consent, would promptly stop asking girls on dates. But instead of expressing that, I half-heartedly re-explained the advantages of using the presumption of guilt, grasping for each new word with demonstrable effort. I felt paralyzed.

In retrospect, I recognize that the shock of confronting such blatant misogyny at an institution lauded as one of the most progressive in the world left me virtually speechless. If my peers are this misogynistic, what does that say about the rest of the world? What does that say about those who have not had the privilege of studying under the auspices of esteemed liberal academics? If Brown’s progressive ideals have failed to shake its students of their misogyny, what will?

These questions scare me, but they also inspire me to action. That is why, after deep breaths and a night of sleep, I decided to email my classmates with a list of thorough, thoughtful responses to their post-speech questions. See below:

In class the following day, a male student stood to give an impromptu speech. The class shouted out topics for him to speak on: robots, rowing, kale. I called out “feminism”; the class erupted with laughter. Amidst all this, a different male student – one who had been particularly vocal after my sexual assault speech – stretched out his arm, pointed his finger at me, and yelled, “STOP.”

Eyes wide, jaw unhinged, face blank – I was stunned. Never had I been so directly and so violently silenced in a classroom. I felt as if this boy had reached down into my throat, grabbed my voice with a clenched fist, ripped it out and placed it in his pocket. Meanwhile, the rest of class proceeded as normal, blissfully ignoring the interaction. I detected not a single comment, pause, or raised eyebrow in the room. Non-reactions like this are not neutral; this form of silence is also oppressive, if more subtly so.

The boy’s outstretched arm, pointed finger, and deep, quick shout established a certain masculinity and dominance that men have been socialized to embrace and display, like a weapon carried around to be cocked, aimed, and fired. Often the wound does not immediately hurt; only once it has sunk in does the gravity of the offense become fully apparent.

After class, he approached me to say that my suggestion had made the whole class feel uncomfortable. “Why would you ask him to speak about feminism? You know he’s not well-versed in that stuff,” he enjoined. This time, I refused to be silent. First things first, I demanded that he never shut me down like that again. I have a right to speak and be heard, which brought be to my second point: discomfort surrounding the idea of feminism indicates deeper-seated personal issues that ought to be addressed. An inability or unwillingness to talk about equal rights for a single minute represents passive subscription to a system that perpetuates inequality. Here, he accused me of imposing my ideology onto others. “Suggesting a topic of discussion is not an ideological imposition, and neither is equality an ideology,” I replied. To silence a woman in a classroom is bad; to silence her attempt to discuss experiences of inequality and marginalization is deplorable.

In light of my recent speech on restoring and upholding survivors’ rights to innocence and justice, this incident felt particularly poignant. The oppressive systems that give assailants permission to rape without punishment are the same systems that give men permission to silence women in the classroom. I do not mean to crudely compare the experiences of sexual assault and classroom silencing, but rather to illuminate the many manifestations of a patriarchal society.

This classroom event is not an isolated one; microaggressions like this happen all the time. Importantly, we must be careful not to fall victim to the behavioralist dismissal of cultural prejudice. In other words, these episodes of classroom misconduct are not committed by select “bad” individuals but instead are the manifestation of a culture that deems women’s voices less important. They are the product of a society that privileges men with a platform on which to speak and be heard. Sometimes this privilege makes men talk more frequently and for larger portions of time during class. Sometimes it makes them interrupt women when they are speaking. Sometimes it makes them point at women and tell them to stop.

However it manifests, this privilege must be recognized. I want us to notice the space we take up in the classroom and to actively work towards an equitable balance. Some women may not feel like they have difficulty making a point in class just as some men may have trouble speaking confidently. While these feelings are completely valid, they are also individual, and the tendencies we see across classrooms in general reflect a systemic inequality that we need to address.

Content originally featured in RE: SHE zine in collaboration with the Bell Gallery.

Yayoi Kusama
Self-Portrait 2008
Acrylic on canvas
227.3 × 181.3 cm

A year ago, on the occasion of Yayoi Kusama’s sensational return to New York, the David Zwirner Gallery debuted, among other works, two of her famous ‘infinity rooms.” Strung with LED lights and reflected through mirrored panels, these glittery tableaus provided the perfect venue for the postmodern medium of the selfie, prompting a swell of attention indexed in a mass of Instagram posts and a coordinate accumulation of social capital.

The art cynic might note the darker tendencies of Kusama’s oeuvre, driven in part by her hallucinations, obsessions, and suicidal thoughts. That her manic rush of colors would prompt such relentless celebrations of the self surfaces the still needling questions of aesthetics and intentionality, or of how an artist’s consciousness informs her viewers. Perhaps more pressingly, Kusama’s art asks how affects and experiences bump up against each other, driving its observers to tumble through the psychic swings of earnestness and suspicion, mania and depression, and exploring the ways these diametric conditions comingle.

Is there any more present an artist than Yayoi Kusama to raise the conflicting registers of self-representation, self-care, and self-harm?

Kusama’s self-portrait in the She exhibition is, by the measures of critical attention, a notably less showy piece than her famed light rooms, in part for its ironic incapacity to stage the perfect profile picture. But even as one of her lesser-known works, the piece’s subtleties bely its triangulated attention to the limits of self-representation and its aesthetic strategies.

Her portrait is one that notably places the category of self under erasure, composed of Kusama’s signature polka dots, which she has referred to as a kind of effacing virus. Her vast, multimedia portfolio is in fact marked by an enduring interest in performances of ‘self-obliteration,’ as the title of her 1967 experimental film indicates. Through this representation of the subject as a collection of points, the portrait diffuses into a state of near-misrecognition.

Kusama’s self-obliterating aesthetic dovetails neatly with the contemporary or newly-valorized tactics of entropy as resistive strategy, referring, chiefly, to the queer, feminist, and critical race theories that would subject sociality to its own critical undoing. In undermining the mythologies of agency on which the subject is fatally premised, the marginal and minor achieve their darkest fantasies of self-obliteration, ironically fulfilling the colonial and heteronormative prophecies of the monstrous destroyer—which stoke suspicion of the ego-less agent, the living dead, and their coming insurrection.

Organized now into their own hybrid forms, afro-pessimists, queer nihilists, and feminist killjoys undertake the self-effacing project of unmooring name from identity, identity from biography, and biography from profile or profession. Through extravagant embrace of those ugly and inflicted states of abjection, they wield a kind of hideous power and sexy badness.

The self-portrait that seeks self-obliteration conjures up those lingering superstitions of the spontaneous disappearance or alien abduction, enlisting the spectral as a site of critical absence. To stand in for the ephemeral, to project that flight into the dispersed void is at once to signify this fear of the unknown, and also to gesture at a brighter something else, retained, perhaps, in the undeniable exuberance of Kusama’s pieces, which can uplift as much as unsettle.

Kusama’s recourse to ego death, a move made from mimetic self-portrait to a constellation of dots, does not foreclose a reparative potential. Her work, for all of its fits of obsessions with unstable psychic formations and erasure, holds fast to a residual acknowledgment of life as motivator for art practice, and as a motivator still worth recuperating.

To look again at a culture that still sings praises of the heroic agent, we discover in Kusama’s work what appears to be the obliteration of self, and yet discover in her portrait its ethical, political, and therapeutic urgencies. For all those struggling with the theories of erasure, for all those negotiating the limits of desire and freedom, Kusama provides an aesthetic rubric for wrestling with a lived existence, all while never losing sight of how it can be tenuously celebrated. When suspicious minds confront structural inequities, inured to the injustices of the everyday, Kusama’s work asks where the self is situated in this maddened mass, and how it disappears in uncomfortable and heartening ways.

Aquarius

January 21^st – February 18^th

This month the spotlight really shines on you, dear Aquarius, so soak it up! Not only will there be two Aquarius new moons, one on the 20^th and the other on February 18^th, but Mars has been in your sign since December 4^th and will be until the 12^th. This is the assertion you need to get your point across so let your voice be heard!

This streak of independence as well as Mercury and Venus entering your sign on the 4^th will spark romance, educational and travel opportunities. Others will be drawn to you with little effort but more importantly they will trust you. You are a humanitarian at heart so use this time to convince people to hop on your bandwagon; believe that you have the ability to create positive change.

Don’t freak out too much but Mercury is retrograde from January 21^st-February 11^th in Aquarius, meaning you will be questioning your personal identity. Your behavior may send mixed signals as you will be in a deep period of self-reflection. Take this time to create a clearer vision of yourself in your mind.

End the month with a new start without excluding old faces. For the next three years you will be re-evaluating your friendships so be sure to align yourself with people who reflect your values and larger as well as personal goals.

Pisces

February 19^th – March 20^th

With so many planets in Aquarius this month you will feel a much slower stream of activity, Pisces so take the time to relax at home and enjoy. You have always been an affectionate one and now is not the time to be shy about your feelings and desire for love.

No form of communication is meaningless with Venus entering Aquarius from the 3^rd-27^th.  Think deeply into seemingly small conversations and interactions. The new moon during this time will add emphasis to spiritual understanding and consciousness. Prepare yourself for artistic discovery, whether you consider yourself an artist or not; use this flow of cosmic energy to create. Your innovation can lead to success.

Mercury’s retrograde will disturb some secrets that you hadn’t visited in a long while. During this time you will be confused, plain and simple. Your desire to communicate your ideas will be tangled with a misunderstanding of those same ideas. Remember that this will pass, as Mercury’s retrograde always does.

With Saturn in Sagittarius for the next three years you will feel more driven than ever before to pursue those career goals that you have sought after for some time. Start to think of a role model for the path that you hope to be on; you may find some stability in these new activities which will help with any hectic confusion going on.

Aries

March 21^st – April 19^th

Ambition and drive are the two key words for your month so use your horns ram and charge forward! Until January 20^th you should focus on what inspires you, what signals you want to send to others and overall put your happiness and social life in the front seat. If your family feels neglected they will let you know so don’t forget to reflect every now and then.

Begin to build your team, reach out to those in your social circle and see who wants to get involved in what it is that you may need help with. You have a strong support structure around you and even if you’ve never been one to put yourself out there this month you’ve been lent the gift of gab so seduce others with your words.

On the 20^th there is a new moon in Aquarius at the same time the sun enters that sign, making this the perfect day for you to complete any deals or reveal anything that you’ve been working on. Beware of Mercury’s retrograde starting the following day and lasting until February 11^th. Take the time to make sure everyone on your team is stepping with the same foot; people can get off track more easily than you realize.

Someone from your past may also come to surprise you during this time so don’t be alarmed. Saturn in Sagittarius for the next three years will mean more opportunities for entrepreneurial activity, travel or expanding your education; perhaps you will get all of these things in one.

Taurus

April 20^th – May 20^th

Though 2014 ended with the moon in your sign, probably creating a BANG of an ending, 2015 will be packed with even more excitement. Starting with the moon continuing to be in your sign your exciting resolutions are more probable than you may think. You crave variety and difference; if these desires are causing any tension make sure you’re not neglecting any responsibilities.

With so many planets in Aquarius you will be especially focused on your career and long term goals starting in the middle of the month. Even if you are tired continue to network and make an appearance whenever you’re asked, you never know who you might connect to!

If any dream seemed too far out of reach January 20th is the day to make even the most unlikely of things become a reality. Do not allow Mercury’s retrograde the following day to send you back to square one; instead, use it as a time to review the bigger picture and make sure everything is working together as it should. Do your career aims reflect your personal morals?

Saturn will be in Sagittarius for the next three years, emphasizing intimate relationships not only in your personal but your professional life as well. The past holds key things that you will need to learn from before you can move forward and mature. If you are running out of steam by the end don’t worry, from the 27th forward you will have the time to sit back and enjoy life.

Gemini

May 21^st – June 20^th

Feeling weighed down? It’s time to leave the excess baggage and fears in 2014 and move on to 2015 with some excitement. The moon will be in your sign at the start of the month, Gemini, so don’t worry as much about what your family or friends may think, use this energy to be that outgoing, driven person you’ve always been.

Mars entered Aquarius in December and remains there until the 12th, giving you a much needed push. Venus and Mercury will also be in Aquarius this month, meaning this is a perfect time for you to communicate your ideas and elaborate visions. You have the mic so use it!

Take risks, you never know which door has fortune lying just behind. The two new moons in Aquarius, one on the 20th and the other on February 18th, will give you two chances for diving off into uncharted waters.

In between these two rare opportunities Mercury is in retrograde from the 21st until February 11th. Though this year will be all about you living a new life, one that better reflects who you are, be careful not to hurt anyone too badly with this new and honest you. Not everyone is so accepting of the truth but don’t let this stop you from trimming those who you don’t connect with intellectually.

Cancer

June 21^st – July 22^nd

Though the month, and year for that matter, got off to a slower start take the time to rest because on January 4th there is a full moon in your sign. This is the first of two full moons in Cancer but the next one won’t be until December so soak up the spotlight. Assert yourself and your passions but most importantly stop apologizing; you should never be sorry for being yourself.

Venus is in Aquarius from the 3rd until the 27th and with Mars adding pressure in the finance realm now would be a good time to pitch new ideas and secure a sponsor who will be a valuable player in your future when it comes to funds. This can also be a time for a new spark in your love life; whatever is affected, make sure to keep in mind deeper motivations and desires.

As the month goes on and Mercury moves into Aquarius things will get easier for you in terms of communication. You tend to focus a lot on others and put their needs before your own; make sure you’re not getting cheated out of anything. When Mercury is retrograde from the 21st until February 11th, be wary that nothing, personal or professional, seems too good to be true because it often is.

Instead of brewing too long over personal or financial matters use the energy from Saturn in Sagittarius to focus on health, mental and physical. For the next three years you will have this push, use it to create new routines and regimens for staying in shape.

Leo

July 23^rd – August 22^nd

For the majority of the month, Venus in Aquarius (3rd-27th) will be keeping your interactions pleasant. Paired with Mercury, the master of communication, you’ll find your social life extremely engaging from the start of January through early March. Holla at me, synergy! With approaching Mercury retrograde (January 21-Feb 11), you’ll have the same concerns as other signs: be hyper-aware to avoid making large new purchases shipping important packages, small technological mishaps, and blurting out mixed messages. But use this time to be reflective, yada, yada. You know the retrograde speil. An ex-flame may make waves in your life right as everyone’s V-day, favorite consumerist ball approaches.  Or the collaborative synergy from Venus could bring a new someone into your life. Either way—keep yo head on straight. You got it.

Word to the wise: While your social interactions–romantic, platonic, and professional—will be on point, at times you’ll feel a deep sense of disarray and limited control over some events. Like I said, it’ll be totes chill. Just roll with it.

Virgo

August 23^rd – September 22^nd

You’ll be thinking in routines for the better part of January, Virgo with a cadre of planets piling up in Aquarius, your sixth house of wellness. SO don’t be surprised if you feel the urge to reassess and redo everything in your regular schedule—especially around the Aquarius supermoon on the 20^th. Baby, let it be your motivation.

And be sure to make your list (and check it twice) and get the details of your life in order before Mercury, your ruling planet hops back into retrograde. Because Mercury is your planet, you’re always at risk of feeling the effects of retrogrades more intensely than other signs. But really, if we learned anything in the hype of the last retrograde: keep calm, retrograde is chill! Let it be your friend. Take the salty with the sweet and the sour and a side of fries on the side, superfly. Tbh. Like for real though.

Stay busy during the last two weeks of the month, it’s good for your soul like chicken noodle soup (with a soda on the side). But allow yourself plenty of flexibility with completing new projects. It’ll be especially important to get down with some checklists. Romance may slide into the background with you taking on so many self-improvement projects, but that’s totally chill. Stay chillin, you’ll stay fly, and be back out mingling soon enough. We all need breaks sometimes, so try masturbation maybe (OR DON’T if it’s not your thing). These projects will have you kicking it with a special someone soon enough.

Libra

September 23^rd – October 22^nd

It’s cuffing season Libra—you know what that means! Shack up, shack up, shack up!

Winter 2015 was made for you with several planets, including your ruler Venus and your action-oriented Mars, in Aquarius (your house of joie de vivre, romance and self-expression)! Mars will provide an extra boost of confidence! Also Venus and Mars are mad compatible, so the stars are for real aligning. The whole month will be shining with love and fun, rather you’re single or attached. January is #doubleflames for the scales.

Retrograde will have you longing for those care-free days, but be careful not to shun your responsibilities. Instead be up on simple daily or weekly self-care routines to balance work and play. And when you don’t get what you want, be hyper-conscious to keep your thoughts positive. Don’t let the retrograde bring you down, baby cause you’re a star. Shine bright like a ethically-sourced diamond.

Scorpio

October 23^rd – November 22^nd

In the words of Azealia (kinda), you’ll “be lookin very [sentimental] and reflective,” Scorpio with several celestial bodies congregating in Aquarius, your fourth house of family and home. Work to rekindle possibly fizzled connections with loved ones and old pals from the 3rd through the 27th. You might hear from someone unexpected, but at just the right time. Mercury will also retrograde in Aquarius, your domestic sector. So believe it or not, get wild! BUY SOMETHINGS FOR THE CRIB. YES, buy something swanky this retrograde. For real. Get that apartment game on fleek. Hell, you could even move during this retrograde if you’ve been thinking about it. This retrograde will mostly affect your communication game. Just as you’re rekindling past relationships, tensions could flare in your closest friendships or with roommates. But it’ll be chill. It will blow over. Eventually. Maybe. Most likely. Don’t sweat.

Meanwhile, Mars is gonna be at work in the background for you—getting everything set up for a fantastic March. It might seem far away now, but when it’s here you’ll be a happy camper.

Sagittarius

November 23^rd to December 22^nd

Sagittarius, take space, make space. Spread your words and ideas. You’ll be a charistamtic orating machine this month. Use the period from the 3^rd through the end of retrograde (2/11) to promote yourself. Be all about it. Others will listen and believe. Your twitter game will be on point. And you’ll be unstoppable on or around the supermoon of the 20^th.

You’ll be slaying the twittersphere; however, watch out cause your email game is going to get raggedy af with this retrograde. But hey a wise woman from Boston, once told me: “I’m 24. I don’t want to check my email after 5 PM.” Try taking Kate’s advice. Get offline and do something nice for yourself—like going for a walk or reading a book. With Saturn in your first house of self and identity, you’ll use this first retrograde of 2015 to ring in a three-year phase of deep self-evaluation and evolution.

And one last note: watch out for water damage. Yeah, idk either, but it’s in the stars.

Capricorn 

December 23^rd – January 20^th

“Money, money, money,” is your motto this month Capricorn with all several planets all up in your financial house of Aquarius. If you put your mind to it, you’ll come up with lots of creative, alternative funding streams. Energy from the supermoon on the 20th will also help—so that’s what’s up. And the seecon Aquarius full moon in Feburaury will have you yelling “ching-a-ling-cha-ching” for sure. I know, everybody’s saying don’t buy anything during retrograde. But boo, you do you. Get yourself something cute, you deserve it. #selfcare needs to be trending for you this month.

For the next three year period, your ruler Saturn has you in de-clutter mode mega-overtime. Take a look at some relationships that may be on tenuous ground, rather it be with a person, place or thing. And if that [insert noun here] ain’t down with you, then take a deep breath. Count to ten. And say “I don’t fuck with you.” Wondering what exactly “ain’t down with you” means? A good place to start is thinking about your interactions with this [insert noun here]. Do you feel revitalized and appreciated or drained and used after? If it’s the latter, then you need to say #byefelicia.

And spend some time outside. I know its cold, but with enough layers you’ll really enjoy it.

GIF Art by María Fernanda Hernandez

When a friend mentioned  she was going to the Millions March in New York, I knew that if I was determined to be an ally, I had to go. I made the trip with confidence. I was being the “right” kind of ally and all of my White friends who could not make it to the protest because of college exams applauded me for going.

Expressing allyship at the protest, however, was no simple matter: chanting “don’t shoot” together threw the contrasts between Black and non-Black protesters into harsh relief. To me, the words “don’t shoot” represent my opposition a moral wrong in the world around me; to the Black protestors next to me, the stakes were higher. They were chanting to have their humanity recognized by the state.

My history as a person of color is not written in Black– I am half Chinese and half Iranian, and my physical appearance has rarely elicited an offensive comment, let alone a threat to my physical safety. Moreover, my family’s socioeconomic class has afforded me many of the same privileges that my White friends had growing up – and in some cases even more. While institutions that I have been a part of notice my brown skin, they also tell me that my voice matters, that I am important, that my well-being is their concern.

The complex confrontation with my own privilege precipitated by the Millions March combined with the fact that it was the first protest I had ever been to made me acutely aware of the fact that I had no idea what I was doing—intellectually and literally. Luckily, friends and peers (Black and non-Black activists) gently corrected me and explained the etiquette of protesting through their actions so that I could protest as respectfully as I intended to. They prioritized Black empowerment with everything they did. They reminded me to fall back so that Black people were always in front of me in whatever cohort I was marching with. They never started chants, but almost always enforced Black voices with their own. They took pictures of signs that reminded protesters that “#BlackLivesMatter” is not only about Black men, but also about Black womyn, LGBTQ and gender non-conforming folks.

Pretty soon, I knew that I had caught on to at least some of the politics of protesting from the way I was reacting to what I saw around me. The White womyn marching next to me leading chants at hoarse shout was giving me a queasy feeling—especially when I noticed Black protestors chanting back in quieter voices.  She was assuming a position of power by taking the lead rather than following Black protesters, enacting yet another way that White voices speak over, and silence, Black voices in society.

Reflecting on the kinds of discomfort I felt during and after the Millions March raised questions for me that I recognized cut to the heart of allyship. What role should I take on in opposing the anti-Black police state? How does that role look literally in political spaces? And, thinking of the broader questions raised by the Millions March, what role should I adopt in to combatting the vast apparatus of American racism?

Considering these questions has required coming to terms with the fact that the way the state is organized and the paradigms that shape institutions I am part of mostly work in my favor because I am not Black. Deciding to practice allyship therefore requires– as Judnick Mayard recently said – feeling “confusion, pain, [and] disgust” over the recognition of a system that assures me that I matter by simultaneously devaluing  Black lives. It is only in the moments that I recognize, challenge and destabilize the oppressive status quo that I am being an ally.

Of course the “leader” and “ally” categories at any given #BlackLivesMatter event varies; it is not always so simple as all Black people are leaders and everyone else should stand back. In different situations, class, race, gender, sexuality, and other power dynamics influence whose voices should be privileged as the leaders and in turn who assumes the role of ally. For example, at a protest this fall in Providence, organized by End Police Brutality PVD, working-class organizers expressed frustration when Black students from Brown took the microphone to share their stories with the media. Brown students have the privilege of retreating to College Hill when they get tired of being vocal about local issues. This is not to say that there are not oppressive Department of Public Safety racial practices on Brown’s campus, but to say that Brown students were, and are, more protected from state violence than Providence community members.

Recognizing my own privileges and what they mean for my allyship was– as one of my wise friends says – not rewarding, but significant.

It has meant feeling uncomfortable with things that I never knew I was used to– e.g. the erasure of Black people from TV shows that take place in New York. It has meant recognizing white apologists among dear friends. It has meant feeling profound discomfort with the fact that when I leave a protest, I am embraced by privilege that excludes most other human beings.

Becoming an ally in #BlackLivesMatter means alternating between sometimes stepping forward, but more often sitting back as a student. In honor, of the New Year, I have made a series of resolutions that I intend to keep and that I hope will at least can spark a discussion of how to be an ally and at most model the kind of ally that supports and empowers the #BlackLivesMatter movement. For me, thinking of how to participate in this movement as a non-Black person has required constant exploration and is an ongoing process. Nevertheless, I have decided to commit to four major resolutions in allyship that I have gleaned from the news, activists, and friends. I encourage other allies (or soon-to-be allies) to do the same.

1) I will educate myself continuously about the anti-Black police state and racial oppression of Black people (including the ways they effect womyn and LGBTQ and gender non-conforming individuals) in America.

I will read the news, explore social media, and use the considerable resources afforded to me by my university to learn about racism and how it interacts with classism, sexism, homophobia, and other forms of oppression. I will focus on reading sources from Black voices and communities that experience increased risk of police violence. I will seek out the opinions of Black friends and activists around me while understanding that it is not their responsibility to educate me. I will share what I learn with my community.

2) I will be an ally to Black people first in the movement.

Allies in this movement must show solidarity by prioritizing Black empowerment above all else, including their own growth as individual activists which may mean stepping further back in society than they may be used to doing.

For example, White people have struggled in protests to let Black people be the literal voices of their own movement. A similar thing happens on the Internet, where #CrimingWhileWhite and #AllLivesMatter detract from Black people’s own stories. The debates emerging among non-Black communities of color are having a similar diluting effect—prioritizing the question of their own oppression over the story of Black oppression. As an ally to this movement, I will support Black people first and foremost.

3) I will attend protests respectfully where I am welcome.

Structural violence against Black people is a human rights issue and requires massive political action from Black and non-Black people alike. However, when I go to those protests, I will follow the lead of Black activists. Out of respect for Black people and the movement’s intentions, I will not take the lead, but rather blend into the crowd of voices behind them showing support.

 4) I will be an ally in my personal spheres.

Friends are often the greatest teachers; Black friends have been certainly my most important teachers on the #BlackLivesMatter movement. The most sure-fire way to combat racism is to start on the individual by ensuring that one’s private sphere emphasizes inclusion, compassion, and love. I commit to doing this every day.

Many thanks to Rheem Brooks, Leila Blatt, Sabrina Lee, and Jamie Marsciano for their help in writing this article.

Image by Emma Lloyd

Yesterday marked the end of our latest retrograde cycle, guiding a supposed return to normalcy whereby Mercury, the House of Communication and Travel, returned direct.

For those uninitiated into astrological readings, retrograde tells of a celestial phenomenon indicated through the illusion of Mercury’s backward movement, which intensifies the potential for mishaps, miscues, and minor injury.

Ask any personal victim of the retrograde and they’ll complain of crashed hard drives and friend fights, missing out on much-needed make-out sessions in favor of lovers’ quarrels. This particular iteration of Mercury retrograde, dovetailing with its onslaught of winter storms, mercifully left us yesterday—begging, then, the question of what it leaves in its wake, or whether it’s left us at all.

The mass proliferation of astrological awareness, even amongst the most hardened of feminist killjoys, can at times close off the critical outlook necessary to identify how mishaps and inconvenience come into being. Breaking your phone is inconvenient because replacing it’s expensive. Replacing it’s expensive because it’s made to be expensive, and yet profitable for a very few. Likewise, those having to choose between long commutes and lost wages reveal the effects of funds siphoned away from aging infrastructure, so that their hardships are borne from the failings of municipal administration.

Inconvenience, accidents, and their political tenors must not be divorced from their broader contexts because inconvenience is distributed unequally across the overlapping metrics of commuter time and socioeconomic standing. And as with safety, convenience is built at the cost of its opposite element. It’s no accident that freshly shoveled sidewalks are the result of labor, and inflict physical and invisible tolls. Unpredictable expenses are created to be crushing and dangerous for some more than others: annoyance for some, and displacement for others.

Where astrology finds much of its appeal is in its ability to guide us through those potential hardships that await us in our imminent futures. Conventional wisdom on the Mercury retrograde dictates that we should practice cautiousness, avoid short-term plans, and be wary of interpersonal dynamics—which, albeit sensible enough, falls short of more radical ways of looking at disruption and inconvenience. The challenge of wedding systemic critique with egocentric astrology is the challenge of looking beyond personal convenience, and advancing an almost New Age attempt to meld self-consciousness with macrocosmic states of economic and social injustice.

The retrograde survival guides populating our digital spheres tell us that, despite retrograde’s infamous difficulties, it’s also a period marked by enhanced intuition, creating opportunities to find those areas where we are stuck, and regain fresh perspective in our routine lives. One way to interpret this is from the familiar vantage point of careerism and romantic fidelity: a look outward at job opportunities, and a jealous gaze toward past or present partners. But what if we gifted new meaning to the retrograde itself, and one that would endanger rather than sustain the mythologies of autonomy and self-reliance?

Winter storms aside, the events of the last few months have shed a new light on just how bad things have been in the U.S. for its most marginal populations—casting necessary shade at our nation’s carceral politics and unjust justice system, with heightened sensibility for the everyday subjection of black and brown bodies. Where the logic of the temporary retrograde fails us is in these deep pockets of injury, and in realizing that at the intersections of low-income, trans, and POC life, the conditions of retrograde suspension can persist beyond the movement of the stars, in areas that vulnerability, financial burden, and medical hardship are weighted most.

Powering through the retrograde may prove an attractive option for some. It’s more comfortable, after all, to weather the storm in shelter, as if things could return to normalcy, if only we waited long enough. But for those suspicious of the current order of things, such a solution will never be sufficient —precisely because the logic of ‘going about one’s business’ serves the ideology of going about one’s business. Maximizing industriousness undervalues the power of disruption to dislodge us from what normalcy has come to mean.

Looking at the various snowstorms in tandem with the disruptive tactics of Black Lives Matters tells a different story of inconvenience: roadblocks made up of bodies hoping to reroute business-as-usual thinking, which would fold the practices of police brutality and mass incarceration into the politics of the everyday. If anti-black racism is what counts for normal, then it cannot be allowed to proceed unchecked. For those of us cheering the end of this retrograde cycle, anticipating the slow warm of seasonal change, we should not forget what came just before so much powdered snow had clogged up our roadways and bridges, when demonstrators poured into the streets to make up their own rising tide.

As the Mercury retrograde ends, sparing us its break-ups and breakdowns, perhaps the best advice is to embrace its cause, and not to ameliorate that feeling of discomfort with everyday events. For casting a closer look at society, just off of stars and snow drifts, reveals the deep marks of an inequity immune to Mercury’s movements. Which is not to say that we should ever be okay with being not okay, but rather, that things have never been okay, and finding serenity in such a world will ask more of us than good planning.  Coping with enduringly fucked conditions will always entail channeling some measure of righteous anger and frustration, embodying, in a way, the spirit of the Mercury retrograde, which is not to find occasion to smooth things over, but to expose and transgress this dysfunctional present for which we have few easy solutions.

*content notice: mention of sexual assault

“I was trapped. It was pitch black and there was no air. I cried for my mother but all I could hear were the cries of my colleagues. Several dead bodies were lying around me. I spent two days under the rubble craving water. I did not know when it was day or when it was night. It was all the same to me under the rubble. And they never found my mother’s body.”

Mossammat Rebecca Khatun, a survivor of the 2013 garment factory collapse in Dhaka, Bangladesh, details her anguishing terror and loss to BBC News. Accounts like hers – of losing limbs and family members in the fiery rubble of Rana Plaza factory – emblazoned front pages around the world, and elicited international compassion for the plight of the thousands of workers who were crushed and killed. In this moment of global attention, the voices of survivors illuminated an oft-forgotten human rights crisis: the exploitation of garment laborers, who toil in unsafe conditions for paltry wages to make clothes for Western shoppers.

Even after outcry following the factory’s collapse, the average Bangladeshi garment worker only makes $68 per month. To highlight a lifestyle disparity, a point of comparison: the average American household throws away 68 pounds of clothing per year. This high turnover of trends and clothes in the West perpetuates a need for laborers to relentlessly mass-manufacture billions of goods. A globalizing economy increases opportunities for fashion corporations to export work overseas, where fewer unions and labor protections exist, and political or economic instability heighten susceptibility to exploitative labor conditions. Corporations cut production costs and increase their profit margins by disregarding necessary maintenance in overseas factories and compensating laborers with meager wages. Illustrating this reliance on global supply chains, clothing giants from the US, Canada, and Europe – including J.C. Penny, Benetton, Sears, Mango, and Wal-mart – sourced clothing from the Dhaka factory. In 2011, Ron Johnson, CEO of J.C. Penny and one of the highest paid businessmen in the fashion industry, pocketed a jarring $53,281,505 – a number which looms staggeringly above the $68/month incurred by his Bangladeshi employees.

Over a year after the collapse of Rana Plaza factory, the media spotlight has shifted focus, and the victims have been consequently forgotten. The corporations responsible for the factory’s conditions promised $40 million to the families of the victims, but not even half has been paid. J.C. Penny has paid nothing. But when we look beyond the once-sensationalized cases of the 1,129 workers killed and additional 2,500 injured in Dhaka, we see the millions of other garment laborers around the world struggling unnoticed through similarly exploitative conditions, long hours, and nominal wages.

The collapse of Rana Plaza elucidates the tip of a pressing, worldwide human rights violation. Made in a Free World, a non-profit focused on eradicating human trafficking in fashion supply chains, reports that in Uzbekistan, 1.5 million people forcibly harvest cotton that constitutes the fibers of cheap clothes around the world. Of the more than 250 million children who work worldwide, many labor in garment sweatshops. Made in a Free World also asserts that child laborers harvest 40% of all gold mined in the Democratic Republic of the Congo – a country in which mineral extraction constitutes 90% of national revenue. Investigators have unearthed similar statistics of slave-based gold mining in Peru, one of the world’s leaders in gold production. A recent report compiled by US labor-rights organization, Verite, described children under the age of ten who work long days in exchange for a mat to sleep on and measly food. The report contends that these child laborers face high risks of mercury poisoning, the girls endure elevated rates of sexual assault, and overseers threaten workers with violence. However, as the fourth-largest producer of gold, these Peruvian slave-mined minerals adorn jewelry across the globe. In addition to hazardous workplace conditions, prolonged hours, and infinitesimal wages, garment laborers at the bottom of the supply chain rarely receive benefits; the International Labor Rights Forum indicates that sweatshop workers seldom secure compensation for sick days or work-based injuries.

Charles Kernaghan, Director of the Institute for Global Labour and Human Rights, highlights the reality of conditions in a sweatshop in northern Bengal that make sweaters for expensive European lines: “It was one of the worst factories we’ve seen. There was child labor, people were being beaten, cheated of their wages — and wages were very, very low. Male supervisors would constantly press young women to have sex with them.” Kernaghan further reports that when laborers organized to protest the conditions, police officers surrounded them, beat them, and tortured their leaders. Sweatshop owners fired anyone who picketed.

In another report, Charles Kernaghan assessed the labor conditions in the largest garment factory in Jordan, where he described management who “hired young women from Asia, stripped them of their passports, forced them to work grueling hours for awful pay under a managerial regime that subjected them to routine rape. One woman hung herself in the factory’s bathroom with her own scarf after allegedly being raped at the hands of a manager.” While reports of rapes and mysterious disappearances from the site persist, Wal-mart, the factory’s top customer, continues to purchase nearly 75% of their products. Corporations are often aware of exploitation in the lower rungs of their supply chains but unwilling to change convenient, cost-cutting practices.

We must take action to hold the corporations accountable. Slavery and exploitation permeates many American lives through our consumption of cheap, mass-manufactured, internationally produced goods. Labor organizations, anti-human trafficking agencies, and governmental departments work to dismantle corruption that allows for labor exploitation to continue, but as consumers and voters, we also hold power to fight human rights violations in the garment industry. We have the mechanisms to challenge inhumane labor practices and remove the shackles of human trafficking, but in order to elicit change, we need to incite widespread commitment to the cause. If we aspire to live in a sweatshop-free world, we must start with our everyday conversations, shopping lists, and actions. Boycott exploitative corporation when financially able, join labor movements, pressure accountability for cleaner supply chains, and vote for legislation that protects laborers. Through our collective action, we work towards positive systemic change and a freer future.

 Do you smell the spring? Yeah, me neither. W/e it’s April!

Already over it? Same.

So in honor of wanting it to be spring when it’s really not and  **~radical self-care~**  ima keep this month’s forecasts real short. Because we all know that only like 4 days this month will actually matter. The rest are gonna go by as a blur like always.

~click to see your reading~
Aquarius (January 21^st – February 18^th)
Pisces (February 19^th – March 20^th)
Aries (March 21^st – April 19^th)
Taurus (April 20^th – May 20^th)
Gemini (May 21^st – June 20^th)
Cancer (June 21^st – July 22^nd)
Leo (July 23^rd – August 22^nd)
Virgo (August 23^rd – September 22^nd)
Scorpio (October 23^rd – November 22^nd)
Libra (October 23^rd – November 22^nd)
Sagittarius (November 23^rd to December 22^nd)
Capricorn (December 23^rd – January 20^th)

Aquarius

January 21^st – February 18^th

The 4th may have meant news from a sibling or the need to sign or rethink an agreement. Eclipses can accelerate our timetables and this one may have done that for you.

Mars will be in Taurus, persuading you to work on situations at home all month.

The new moon on April 18 may bring yet another agreement or contract for pondering.

Expect fun and plenty of laughter on April 22 from Venus and Jupiter all month.

April 26-27 will be your best days of month with Venus and Uranus, the planet of surprise, flirting.

Pisces

February 19^th – March 20^th

You were doing some serious brainstorming last week. But the best ideas are yet to come!  With Mar perfectly angled against Neptune and the Sun and Neptune in harmony, the 12th and 26th have that little light bulb above your head shining bright.

The upcoming new moon will be the best of 2015 for you, Pisces. It will give you the energy to burn through projects and help you develop new skills.

Aries

March 21^st – April 19^th

Big things are popping for you this month, Aries! Love, romance, and creativity are in the stars for the first week of the month when Jupiter syncs up with the Sun. But the full moon lunar eclipse on April 4 might be a hiccup in your week. Lunar eclipses bring feels, sometimes heavy, and may initially bring shock waves to one close relationship. So expect some s^h^i^t to go down, but soon enough Jupiter will go direct and bring peace to that temporary nonsense. After the 8th, your fifth house of love and romance will take precendence in your life. Live that up. Get it on.

Some simple arithmetic for the 12th:

Mars + Neptune = $$$

The new moon signify beginning and closures. This is especially true if the new moon is in your sign. It will be in Aries on April 18  and will likely begin an entirely new chapter of your life, doubly so if your birthday falls on or near this date. O M F G. Damn. Take that for what you will.

Taurus

April 20^th – May 20^th

This past full moon lunar eclipse probs brought about sudden changes on the job in regard to a project or your dynamic with a collaborator.

Everyone’s fav planet, Venus, steps into the light on the 11th bringing you a newly found gift of gab through the first week of May.

Look forward to making strides (or at least turtle steps) re: health and well-being once the new moon of April 18 hits. Mars and Mercury are chillin with Pluto April 21-22, casting light and energy on your ninth house activities. Expect a breakthrough re: some time-sensitive project.

With Venus and Jupiter aligned, the weekend of April 25-26 might just shit some gifts on you. Yay. <3 Gifts.

Gemini

May 21^st – June 20^th

The first week of the month may have brought you a healthy helping communication and authority. Yay. And also troubles with regard to romance. Nay. But you should be over it by now.

With Venus all up in Gemini, anytime after the 11th is perfect for a new look if you were considering a little spraaaaang make-over. Do it up.

The new moon in Aries on April 18 will put some spice in your strut, heating up your social life in in the last two weeks of the month. This spellz: n e w f r i e n d s

Take advantage of the fruits of Venus, which will be in your sign starting on the 22nd: Travel.

Got things to do? Who cares. Travel.

Travel. Travel. Travel.

Cancer

June 21^st – July 22^nd

Cancer, this lunar eclipse that shat on everyone really affected your domestic matters. That’s bummer.

Pluto will retrograde from April 16 to September 24 and during that time you may change your mind about the way you would like to proceed with a partner or to plan the future with a romantic spouse. Taking a short pause for a few months may be just right to get things back on track.

The new moon in Aries on April 18 will bring great opportunity to make a bigger name for yourself in your career and in the two weeks that follow.

Got a big event ahead? Hopefully it’s scheduled for after the 22nd, when Venus and Jupiter give you the extra confidence boost to take center stage. If not……………………….¯_(ツ)_/¯

Leo

July 23^rd – August 22^nd

Your best day of the month already passed. It was the 2nd. Jupiter was in your sign, spelling luck and good fortune for you. If you don’t feel like it found you, you should reflect on that day and project luck onto everything. Because it was a lucky day. Just think in worst case scenarios and you’ll realize how good of a day it truly was.

That lunar eclipse. That full moon tho. It brought the TRUTH. Yeah.

The new moon on April 18 will bring in lots of exciting opportunities, and surround you with opportunities to link up with some very important peeps.

You will hit a creative streak on Wednesday, April 29, when the Sun and Neptune will be in sync.

Virgo

August 23^rd – September 22^nd

Jupiter has been retrograding since early December, so everyone’s luck was off this long long winter. However, it will turn direct on April 8. Virgo, you can expect extra extra energy from Jupiter re: goodness, posi vibes, and overall happiness. You may reach previously unattainable goals. And when you find yourself in need of help and support, it will find you.

Mars in Taurus, your counter pole which is great for you. You’ll be a natural leader in all things from April 11th onward.

You might just be treated to a free dinner on the 29th. Maybe even lunch too.

Overall, you shouldn’t be over April like the rest of us.

Libra

September 23^rd – October 22^nd

Some S*H*I*T probably went down over the full moon lunar eclipse last week which was in your sign. I ended up sobbing, you probs did too. We were all feeling some sort of way. But it’s chill now. That S*H*I*T was hopefully clarified. Libras bounce back fast: that’s what’s up. If not #whoops you should’ve taken advantage of that moony energy…

Jupiter will turn direct April 8 and allow your social life to sizzle from that point on. Catch that: I said sizzzzzzle. Mmmhm. Jupiter has been retrograde since early December 2014. But with the house of good fortune and posi vibes going direct, you’ll be on cloud nine making strides in friendships that may have been on the back burner for the past few months. Venus ~~our planet~~ will also be in Libra for the duration of this month. A good time to update your look. It’ll be keeping you charismatic and charming as can be from April 11 to May 7. Use to your discretion.  Venus will be feeling itself and flirting with the bringer of surprises, Uranus, so look forward to BIG news.

Scorpio

October 23^rd – November 22^nd

Time was not on your side over the full moon of the 4th. But luckily that was just one day. Especially with the new moon of the 18th bringing you mad assignments and projects, you’ll need time management more than ever.

Jupiter will go direct on April 8 = compliments. We all love compliments.

Tuesday the 21st will probably be your best day of the month. So keep hope alive! That one day is apprroaching. The rest don’t matter that much.

Sagittarius

November 23^rd to December 22^nd

Your fav day is also the 2nd. Same advice as Leo.

The new moon whirls into your love sector on April 18.

OH

baby

Capricorn 

December 23^rd – January 20^th

Mars will be in Taurus all month. Earth luvs earth luv the earth. You’ll be in a romantic headspace for the duration of the month. Take some time to daydream.

The new moon of the 18th will give you the restorative energy to make big changes with regard to your home, family life, or living situation. Add ten days to plant some seeds. Water them. Watch em grow.

An assignment that you are passionate about will bring you bountiful rewards on or around April 22.

Illustrations by Emma Lloyd

Author shown on the right.

“But don’t you feel naked out there, and objectified?”
“Who are you performing for exactly?”
“These things happen in that many cities outside of the Caribbean?”
“Wait, children are in these parades too?”

I was having a little Carnival Tabernacle, and was feeling myself getting slightly annoyed by my friend’s colleague who seemed adamant about questioning me regarding all things Carnival related. My friend wanted to see photos of my costume, and other costumes from parade day, so I obliged and began scrolling through one of my online albums. That is when the comments began.

Her colleague leaned over to see the photographs and began to shake her head in what seemed like disapproval. She then followed up her actions with this line of questioning. To say the least, she was killing my vibe. Just days before, I had been on a boat ride, on the top deck, feeling the gentle sea breeze, as my nimble movements drew the attention of those on passing ships; before that — I was On Di Road, chippin down Hollywood Boulevard and wukking up behind a big truck to the blaring sounds of soca music. When Denise Belfon’s “Wining Queen” came on, I showed the tourist and onlookers who lined the world-renowned boulevard exactly why I am often referred to by that nickname. It was my 2014 theme song, and of course it still applies for 2015. The night before that, I conducted myself, with absolutely No Behavior inside of a fete. As we awaited the arrival of soca artists, the Dj played some of the biggest tunes of the year, and I found myself up on the stage, and up on some shoulders more than once. I will stop here before providing any additional and incriminating evidence, of “just how bad I does gwan”.

Anyhow, the whiny and nasally sound of this woman’s voice snapped me back into reality. There was no time to reminisce, when this woman seemed to be demanding answers to her inquisition. So, I turned to look directly at her, and she seemed so confused. It was as though she was trying to mask her curiosity with ethnocentric disgust. I suppose that she was wondering how I could be this unapologetic feminist, radio personality, and women’s rights activist that she had heard about, and still take part in something like this. I suppose that one of her comments — “you write about patriarchy, yet willingly wear those costumes”, was an attempt to get under my skin and shame me.

Unfortunately for her it didn’t work –I have never been one to feel shamed easily. If I do something, I own up to it. If I want to dance Wotless, I do just that. If others disapprove of my actions, I start humming Janet Jackson’s “What have you done for me lately?”, and assure them that I do not care. I figured out long ago that people are going to talk regardless, so life should not be lived according to what they will say. As award winning novelist, feminist, and activist Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie once stated, “There are people who dislike you, because you don’t dislike yourself”.

In that same vein, there are people who will try to make you feel ashamed of yourself, your actions, your decisions, your past, and yes, your culture, when you do not feel the need to be ashamed. I realized that I was not obligated to answer this woman’s questions, or explain myself, but decided to do so regardless. As a woman of Caribbean descent living in the United States, this is something that I have grown accustomed to doing. Whether it is explaining geography (we are all not from Jamaica), cultural cuisine (yes, people eat oxtails and even iguanas), and responding to stereotypes (not everyone smokes ganja; besides, my father smokes enough for both of us!) So, I decided to turn to Judgmental Judy and finally respond.

“But don’t you feel naked out there, and objectified?”
No, I do not. The fact that there are hundreds of people dressed the same way may have something to do with that. There are people of every size wearing these costumes as well. Skinny, muscular, full figured, curvy…all doing so without an ounce of shame, and isn’t that a feminist act? There is no room for body shaming in Carnival. It is also the ultimate sex-positive experience. One is free to love their bodies, all while embracing, celebrating, and even flaunting their bodies if they want to. Further, no one will call you a whore or a slut for doing so. It is a time of ultimate freedom, when even the most modest person, removes her restraints, lets go, releases some stress, and just lives in the moment.

“Who are you performing for exactly?”
In short: Me, myself, and I. Sure, there may be many onlookers lining any given parade route, but most people do not look at their participation in Carnival as an opportunity to perform for others. No one is cutting them a check to make that long trek down the road, dancing behind trucks with blaring sound systems. The same goes for the women who you see gyrating their hips and pushing back dey bumpa in ah fete. To some it may look like they are putting on a show, or dancing to catch a man’s attention, when the truth is that they are simply whining. I cannot tell you how many times I have lost myself in the music, eyes closed, back dampening with sweat, with my hands in the air. At times, it actually seems like there is no one left in the room, and you truly become possessed.

“These things happen in that many cities outside of the Caribbean?”
Yes! The Caribbean has always been a site of constant migration, and these post-colonial societies have produced a massive Diaspora that has formed cultural enclaves in many cities and countries around the world. You can find masqueraders in Berlin, London, Toronto, and a many cities in the United States: New York, Philadelphia, Miami, Orlando, Atlanta, Charlotte NC, Houston, Los Angeles, and the list goes on. Wherever Caribbean people go, we carry our flags and culture. Actually, when including the Carnivals that actually take place in the islands, one can attend Carnival every month of the year. There is bound to be one taking place.

“Wait, children are in these parades too?”
Yes! There are even children parades, where they wear age-appropriate costumes and are allowed to take part in the festivities. Children wait all year for Carnival just as much as adults.

The conversation pointed out a problem that many feminists from the Global South have with Western feminism, and that is that; it often continues to focus solely on the experiences of women in Western cultures; and marginalizes the viewpoints of non-white and non-Western women. This narrow focus on a singular – white- experience leads to a false sense of sisterhood, leaving differences among women to be ignored. This creates the notion that the experiences of white middle class is the norm.
It was for that reason that this woman felt she had the right to speak to me in such a condescending manner, chastise me, and question my authenticity as a feminist.

I did not feel obligated to respond to her line of questioning. However, I did so as a means to push back against and reject Western feminism’s homogenizing approach to liberation. Feminism is suppose to work to eliminate all the Isms: sexism, racism, classism, ableism, as well as ethnocentrism. My only hope is that my taking the time to explain a little more about Carnival, my decision to wear a costume, my love affair of dancing as wotless as I want to be, and not being ashamed of it, led her to reconsider her definition or views of what a feminist should look and act like. Feminists can march, protest, write, and roll it! We are multidimensional beings living in a three-dimensional world.

Lastly, I am making it a point to experience as many Carnivals as possible, so if you find yourself going to check out the festivities. Look for me, I will be Di gyal behaving di worst.

Cherise Charleswell, BA, MPH is a Bio-cultural anthropologist, self-proclaimed Womanist, author/writer, public health researcher/practitioner. She is the creator and host of Wombanist Views RADIO, a Segment Producer for Pacifica Radio’s Feminist Magazine (90.7FM KPFK), Women’s Issues Chair of The Hampton Institute, and the Chair of the National Women’s Studies Association’s Social Justice Task Force. Cherise is of Caribbean descent with heritage from numerous islands: St Thomas, St John, Tortola, Puerto Rico, St Kitts, and Anguilla. She is currently releasing Walking in The Feminine: A Stepping Into Our Shoes Anthology, and working on the book project, The Link Between Food, Health, & Culture In the African Diaspora.

Depending on your texting aesthetic, you may or may not have noticed the most recent Emoji update. For the more spartan texters, emojis are a set of ideograms accessed via a supplemental keyboard when texting on a smart phone. Though created in Japan, emojis spread to the United States in 2011 and are now available on Apple and Android devices. Today, smart phone wielders around the world send each other smiling poops and shrimp tempura to digitally communicate with a little bit more flair than alphanumerical characters allow.

Early in April, Emoji released an update that introduced more than 300 new “diversity emojis” to the emoji arsenal. Users can now choose between six skin tones when selecting a humanoid emoji. These six skin tones purportedly derive from the Fitzpatrick scale, a numerical classification schema for human skin color. In addition to offering a skin tone selector, Emoji has also endowed users with the choice of same-sex couples and families. This update may or may not have occurred as a response to an email from an MTV representative to Apple CEO Tim Cook accusing the app of racism. This email, coupled with complaints from the likes of Miley Cyrus and DoSomething.org, incited an update some laud as a progressive embracing of diversity.

We are not impressed. What’s more, we’ve seen this before. In 1992, Crayola introduced a line of “multicultural products” (a few shades of brown markers) in response to customer complaints. According to Crayola, the new hues (which were actually pre-existing hues packaged in a box labelled “multicultural”) were selected to “represent skin tones of the world.” The notion that a finite amount of hues can represent all skin tones or all people gets at the core this problematic politics of representation.

In presenting a range of skin tones to choose from, Emoji attempts to represent different racialized groups of people. Though these representations will never be the things that they are attempting to represent, they impose meaning onto these things. Think about René Magritte’s The Treachery of Images, which realistically depicts a pipe and, at the bottom of the print, reads “Ceci n’est pas une pipe,” or “This is not a pipe.” Magritte’s point, however trite, is that the painting itself is not a pipe but rather a representation of a pipe, and the image suggests something about the meaning or essence of a pipe. Given the objectness of a pipe, visually representing it is a rather innocuous act. By contrast, the act of representing people necessarily takes on greater gravity.

The sensitivity around representing historically marginalized groups of people stems from their political powerlessness to represent themselves. This gives the representation — in this case, the emoji — disproportionate weight. The single image/representation can come to stand in for and essentialize the entirety of a group. Alice Walker identifies this phenomenon of stereotypical representation as a form of social control she deems “prisons of image.” Stereotypical images are not errors of perception but rather products of prejudicial patterns. The static and limited manner in which Emoji has chosen to depict racial diversity posits an ahistorical representation of a particular person or group of people. The idea that six skin tones can sufficiently represent racial diversity flattens the notion of racial identity into simply a product of pigment, thus undermining the possibility for fluid, dynamic, or otherwise non-biological racial/ethnic identification.

The effort for these “racially diverse” emojis on behalf of Apple is NOT justice for historically marginalized and misrepresented peoples. The existence of a space for these multicultural emojis is never going to be enough to represent all groups; there is no finite amount of symbolic representations that can encompass all identities.

A multicultural campaign solely based on changing the skin color of emojis ignores the nuances in differing identities, not just in terms of appearance but in embodiments of identities beyond appearance. That the primary factor in Emoji’s new campaign is the option to change skin tones (and with a selection of six skin tones!) is very telling of how Apple only pays attention to certain issues of inclusivity that are addressed to them directly by their customers. The new emojis neglect the problematics of providing a range of six skin tones for each humanoid image and the option to change the family emoji to be purportedly inclusive of couples of varying sexualities (a.k.a. the inclusivity of lesbian and gay couples = comprehensive sexual inclusivity, yay!). Apple passes these new emojis as the solution to the previous problem of racial and sexual exclusivity, when they only perpetuate this exclusivity and exacerbate it under a commercial facade of social progress for its customers.

That the new default or “neutral” skin tone of the emoji is yellow reveals an entirely new problematic. The neutrality of the yellow skin tone supposedly emulates the neutrality of the original yellow smiley face, designed by freelance artist Harvey Ball in 1963 to increase the morale of employees at a Massachusetts insurance company. The original smiley face was not an attempt to represent any specific human body; the yellow tone of the image did not readily suggest the representation of a racial identity. Similarly, the yellow skin tone emoji isn’t supposed to be a skin tone at all—it is somehow supposed to exist outside of what Emoji considers a realistic range of skin tones. However, the default yellow emojis, which are entirely humanoid and juxtaposed with other racialized humanoid emojis, can’t escape the representational nature of a yellow skin tone. These yellow emojis instead evoke the stereotyped depictions of yellow-skinned people inscribed upon East Asians. Customers have gone so far as to wonder the “true race” of these default emojis and have accused Apple of yellowface. What Emoji has purported to be “neutrality” with this yellow skin tone is in fact not neutrality at all.

Moreover, the yellow hair of each default emoji suggests the purported neutrality of yellow hair. Not only is the yellow skin tone rooted in racist depictions of East Asians, the yellow color of the hair also seems to suggest the normalization and neutrality of the white body within the public discourse on image representation of bodies, further complementing customers’ complaints about yellowface.

The skin tones of these multicultural humanoid emojis puts pressure on users to choose emojis that represent them. Otherwise, others might interpret the use of an emoji that does not represent the user as appropriation or mockery. There is also an unequal burden of pressure to represent the self when it comes to the emojis that embody white people. Since the white body is prescribed as neutral and heterogenous, white people do not need to feel the obligation for images of white bodies to represent white people. One image of a white person does not represent all white people or whiteness because we accept the heterogeneity of white as dominant in our discourse of body representation.

The attempts at comprehensive representation by the new emojis also ignore the intersectionality of identities. Although the emoji that depicts a family can now be adjusted to change the gender of each member of the family between female and male, this is a crude attempt at understanding the representation of families with same-sex parents. First, none of the family members’ skin tones can be changed; they maintain the default yellow. Second, the attempt at including same-sex parents of only female and male genders erases any opportunity to be gender-inclusive of identities that do not fall into the categories of female and male. And third, Apple’s attempt to only include same-sex parents as part of their supposedly LGBTQ-inclusive Emoji campaign (or really just LGBQ) with the semblance of a progressive inclusivity for LGBTQ identities denies any opportunity to understand the variety and nuance among people of different sexualities.

Even when Apple attempts to reckon with the underrepresentation of people of color and LGBTQIA people, they still fail to understand how meanings of certain identities are inscribed by representative images of human bodies. People’s identities go beyond popular representations or understandings of them. Thus, representations that attempt to encompass all identities in a finite space is simply impossible.

The Emoji update promotes a sense of complacency with multicultural and sexual inclusivity, by suggesting that achieving it is as easy as including six skin tones and same-sex parents. Apple’s idea that this update is enough to include the identities that they neglected with the previous emojis still erases a history of misrepresentation of marginalized peoples by approximating an inclusive justice for people of color and LGBTQIA people.

Apple’s power to determine the changes to the emojis also raises questions as to who gets to represent marginalized peoples and who gets to decide when that representation is enough. When their customers asked for changes to emojis regarding racial inclusivity, Apple sought to solve this customer dissatisfaction with these six skin tones, rather than addressing the larger issues of racial representation. Under its diversity quota, Apple neglects to understand the identities that it attempts to include and the identities it excludes. The fact that six skin tones and same-sex parents are the primary points of their attention reveal their priorities to satisfy only specific concerns of their customers and capitalize on the semblance of a multicultural, sexually-inclusive campaign.

HAIR

“Is that your hair?” This was not, by any means, the first time I had been asked this. I get it quite often. I always answer truthfully, although it always baffles me why people don’t think of this as a rude question to ask someone. I mean really, if it is mine, why don’t can’t you fathom that it’s real enough? Why must you ask? And if it is not, do you really think I went through the process of blending the hair with my own, just to satisfy your own unbelieving curiosity?

I fought the initial instinct to ask her if her eyebrows or teeth were hers, which they clearly were not. And I most definitely knew the question would have been rude and made her feel uncomfortable, instead, I simply responded, “No, it is not; it’s extensions.” She didn’t stop there but proceeded with, “Oh, it’s a weave, horse hair, fake hair!”

I was moderately annoyed by this point, but I still was not sure if she was uninformed about the subject or simply being an ass. So, to be fair—because I am a fair person I like to think—I continued with this awkward exchange although all I wanted to do was get back to reading my novel.

“No, it’s not fake hair or horse hair; it’s real hair. And although one of the ways to attach extensions is a weave; this is not a weave. It is, however, not all my hair,” I responded.

But it did not end there. No, it was confirmed by the next remark that I was dealing with someone who wasn’t curious about the hair process but only wanted to invalidate my beauty: it had to be analyzed and broken down, understood because it simply could not just be. I understood this since I had been there before as well. Dissecting other beauties in the past, dismissing them because—well, it’s not her real hair, or eye-color, or boobs. She had plastic surgery to look like that. By breaking down the other individual, I was allowed to excuse why I didn’t look as good in my own eyes. It gave an excuse for their perfection and my imperfection.

“Oh, it’s all the same thing. It’s all fake hair anyways. Can you even wash it? Do you wash your hair?” she mused. Questioning my hair was one thing, but questioning my hygiene was entirely different. And I had absolutely no patience for that. Would she have asked such a question if I were white or anything other than Black? White people wore extensions too, did they not? Was my dark skin making her question my cleanliness?  Hairpieces, wigs, extensions etc. have been worn for ages. The Egyptians wore wigs; Marie Antoinette, queen of France wore a hairpiece; even Queen Elizabeth I of England, the last Tudor to reign, wore fake hair. Hairpieces are not inventions—so what was behind the need to know what exactly was on my head?  Don’t get me wrong, some people want to know because they want to try it, or they like the look. Some people, including several family members, want to understand how to change up their look. They’re curious to learn new hair tips. But there are those who simply want to belittle the process, and they come from all cultures and ethnicities, including my own.

Some of them are from other ethnicities and want to make sure I know, “Girl your hair looks good, but it ain’t yours.”  Yes I know. But it still looks good, just like that extra piece they put in to make your hair look fuller and the tattooed makeup you had done. Some questioners are Black with conceptions of what they think is good hair. Some people have defined themselves by posting things like “my real hair” or “Curly hair girls unite,” so everybody knows it’s real. This especially make me laugh. Perhaps they are so proud of their hair that they use it as a way to feel better than others or separate themselves from being considered totally Black. Or perhaps it’s what makes them feel special, so it pisses them off when someone else gets the look and wasn’t born with it like them—but most people can’t tell the difference. Maybe it takes away from a most prized claim to beauty, and they must clarify to the world that their hair is authentic.

Folks make remarks like “why do you wear fake hair, you don’t need it.”

Really? “Why do you wear that fake color in your hair, you don’t need it.” “Oh, it’s because you like that color right? You feel like wearing it because you want to? Well, me too.”  Some black girls, the naturalistas, can make me feel as if I don’t love myself because I don’t wear my natural hair. And these remarks hurt the most, because I love my hair in all its varying forms. And I don’t want it to define who I am. I am who I am; my hair doesn’t change that. I hate limiting my self-love to a one-dimensional reading of my hair.

“You’re aggravating me,” I snapped. “Do you really mean to ask me if I wash my hair? How obnoxious are you? My hair is not dirty!” My reply was accompanied by the most vicious side-eye imaginable. She said nothing. This was the first time someone implied that my hair was dirty, but it wasn’t the first time my self-expression through hair came into question.

At a time when I was feeling myself and was finally starting to feel at peace with who I was becoming, I had a gentleman imply that I was not happy with who I was, because I didn’t wear my hair in its natural state. I knew this implication said more about him and what his idea of what a happy, self-evolved woman looked like, than it did about me. Although I was a little shocked that he couldn’t see by the light in my eyes and the width of my smile that I was in a better place mentally, I knew that his view of me was not accurate.  I knew that I was my own masterpiece to paint and create as I saw fit; I was my own creation, and I could not be defined by another person’s narrow view of what I should be.

This gentleman was a person I had only known professionally for a few months; he didn’t know me in my twenties when I wore my hair in natural dreadlocks for nine years. And in fact, was probably the most lost, unhappy, and lonely I had ever been in my entire life. It had absolutely nothing to do with my hair, because how you wear your hair has nothing to do with how happy you are. A hairstyle is not what fundamentally makes a person happy or sad. That happens on the inside and manifests on the outside through a skip in your step, a smile on your face, and a twinkle in your eye.

How I wear my hair is similar to how I wear my clothes: it’s what I feel good wearing that day and another avenue through which to express myself like my shoes or accessories. I enjoy trying new styles and expressions, so what my hair really says is that I don’t want to be boxed in or defined as one thing. I am an evolving woman in process, and I cannot be defined by my hair. I cannot be defined by another person’s definition of life. I can only live happily by my own vast definition. I do not have any time to be limited by another person’s definition. However, if your hair has a different definition in your life, it means something else to you, then it’s your life to define as you see fit.  My hands are too full figuring out my own shit. As anyone with even a little insight knows, once you figure out one aspect of your life, here comes another obstacle for you to conquer and learn a new thing about yourself.

The Free the Nipple campaign has been in and out of the media limelight since December 2013 when Lina Esco met an onslaught of censorship during her attempt to release a new film. The feature length movie follows a group of young women who take to the streets of New York City to challenge the taboo and criminalization of females going topless in public. Despite censorship bans, the film was eventually released and a campaign was ignited to set the nipple free.

The goal seems straightforward at first glance, but the meaning of that freedom raises questions that require deeper answers than just the unbuttoning of a blouse. Is concealment synonymous with confinement? And what is the nature of disclosure if it is only a response to restraint?

Shortly after the campaign was launched, the internet quickly became inundated with selfies of young women baring their breasts to their smartphones. Lifting one corner of their t-shirt to reveal the infamous nipple, many girls chose to leave the other hidden from view. While the selfies and the enthusiastic support of Miley Cyrus didn’t exactly inspire my confidence in the movement, it was hard not to appreciate some of their points. “If porn is the only place where we do see topless women,” says Liz Plank, the senior editor of Mic, “no wonder we have trouble overcoming how women are constantly being objectified.”

Plank did a short segment on the subject in which she interviews men on the streets of LA to gauge public reaction to the movement. She stops a muscular shirtless man out for a run to ask if he is concerned about showing his nipples.

“So you don’t feel that people are going to be like, ‘Ohh, he’s totally asking for it. I can do whatever I want to his body?’”

The man is bewildered. “No,” he laughs. “No.”

She stops a second man, also shirtless.

“Don’t you feel like it’s distracting? Like people will see you and they can’t do anything else?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, because you’re like topless.”

‘Yeah, but everyone does it,’ he replies.

Perhaps he was unaware that until the 1930’s, not even men were allowed to show their nipples on the beach. They had to wear a one-piece suit and were subject to the hefty fine of one dollar if they broke this rule.

Conversations such as these reveal the absurd inequality of our cultural standards, but while the policing of women’s bodies is problematic on several levels, I question whether a campaign of disclosure will be the path to freedom either. Exposure is not inherently empowering.

As much as I wanted to believe that I had outgrown the conservative ideology of my youth, I still felt myself shrink inside my shirt when I heard about this topless revolution. I was born into a home where my mother stripped down to give birth to me, but then went through the photos of the event and placed stickers over her breasts and vagina. From the very beginning it was well understood that there was something to hide, and to be hidden from.

I was only six-years-old when my mother warned me not to wear shirts with images on the front to avoid drawing unwanted attention to my breasts. As a flat-chested child, it was difficult to understand her reasoning, but as I grew older, my father’s addiction to porn and my grandfather’s sexual abuse shed new light on my mother’s warnings.

I was in my twenties the first time I took off my bra in front of my boyfriend. The sensation that I remember most is not freedom, but an inability to breathe. It was not his first time seeing a woman’s chest, but he understood that my disclosure mattered even if it was only for a brief moment, before I exhaled and withdrew back beneath the sheets.

Now in my early thirties, I wonder at my body’s remaining reticence. Am I any less a feminist if I choose not to share my nipples with the world? A preference for privacy is nothing to wonder at, but why do I feel threatened by these other women’s unveilings? As I scroll through the selfies of perky and voluptuous breasts, I do not feel empowered. I still see many of them responding to a gaze, looking back at a man either in defiance or invitation and usually a mixture of both. The exposure that for me had been a significant step of vulnerability feels somehow demeaned by the flippancy of these photos that seek to make the nipple commonplace. When everything has been seen, what is left to be revealed?

The option to conceal was an important part of my decision to do otherwise. It gave meaning to the moment when I trusted someone enough to be held within their view. It was an intimacy that did not reduce me to what was hidden or exposed, yet retained the significance of both.

At the turn of the 20th century, the German painter, Paula Modersohn-Becker was the first modernist woman artist to paint nude self-portraits. Long before the Free the Nipple campaign began championing the naked breast, she was learning to paint her own. One of her most well-known and striking paintings is a full-frontal from the waist up with only an amber necklace hanging at her chest. Her eyes are dark and wide with a deep blue sky and bright flowers behind her tilted head. She is smiling slightly and her gaze is an internal one – as if she were looking into a mirror. Her image fills the frame, the head and chest taking up equal measure. There is an immediacy to her nakedness, an almost startling presence from which the dark pink nipples do not distract.

Self Portrait, 1906. By Paula Modersohn-Becker.

I think of Caroline Knapp’s insightful critique of the media’s representation of women. She observed that a model’s gaze from the pages of a magazine usually says two things: to men, “Fuck me,” and to women, “Fuck you; you will never be me.” Becker’s portrait says neither. Instead, there is a seemingly effortless refusal to be objectified. There is no separation between her body and the wakefulness of her conscious mind.

I sense a subtle but significant difference in this example of exposure that is not threatened by its own vulnerability. When Becker steps within the frame, she is not on the defensive, nor does she have an agenda for what is seen. Thus what can possibly be taken from her?     

Whatever empowerment is, I feel that this painting offers a clue. It is not power over or against anyone, or possession by desire as is often exulted in contemporary media.

Outside the structure of patriarchy, the fear that Paula’s self-disclosure could be invalidated by a picture of another topless woman becomes almost laughable. Her existence cannot be subjugated to the narrow framework of a gaze because it was never created by one. Her power is not based in exposure or concealment, but in the actuality of who she is.

The Free the Nipple campaign continues to instigate an important dialogue about our culture’s perception of women, but while Facebook and Instagram carefully navigate new censorship battles over whether the photo of a nipple is porn or progress, it is hard not to wonder if we have somehow missed the point.

The power never did lie in the eye of the beholder. The body retains a reality that transcends poor interpretation, and perhaps it is only a poor interpretation of power to believe it can be so easily taken away.

I have been spending my summer in the steaming hot hallways of public housing, knocking on Korean tenants’ doors to talk about issues they face. Come inside, they say. “밥묵었나?” I nod, but they still insist on feeding me steamed potatoes dipped in brown sugar. I’ve come to realize this summer that my usual awkwardness melts away when I am with older folks. We quickly dip into their ridiculously pro-America politics, frown-squint up together at the kitchen ceiling that’s been leaking for the last year, and chat about how the stream of family and visitors have slowed over the years.

I eventually go into my organizing pitch, and we get to talking about privatization: private companies buying up public housing land all over the city to turn into unaffordable luxury towers. Many just nod, knowing that it means that they will be pushed out eventually. Public housing is the last frontier of affordable housing in NYC, and for many, there is simply nowhere else for them to go.

Organizing is 120% legwork. And I would add, 200% emotional labor. I meet with tenants twice a week to hear their struggles with language, mobility, and repairs in public housing. Then the next day, I walk into our Chinatown office to news about another building of Chinese residents moving out en masse after taking buyouts from the landlord. Another step in this terrifying sprint towards Chinatown decimation nationwide. K tells me that housing organizing is always being in “crisis mode” — and I see the emotional toll that it takes on us. Homelessness, evictions, tenant harassment, threats, lawsuits, buyouts, gentrification. My heart aches every time I see snapback white boys drinking coffee on wood plank benches on Ludlow Street. And the Wyndham Gardens hotel standing tall where the Chinese theater and Chinatown community mural once stood. And don’t get me started on those damn white photographers who come to take photos of elderly Chinese folks at Hester Park, as if they are on display, as if folks are all part of their “cultural tour” experience.

There is a lot of protective anger, pain, and fear in this work. I wonder how we can keep going and if anything will be left in a couple of years.

In the quieter moments of this summer, I also think a lot about what it means to go “home.” I notice myself asking tenants about their faded Virgin Mary statue wrapped in a thick, green rosary, identical to the one that stands on my mother’s bedroom dresser. I catch glimpses of my grandmother in our members’ softly aged creases. Traversing the trapped staircases of public housing, my body has developed an eerie ache for the stifling heat of Seoul summers, and I wonder if anything will ease my diasporic tug quite as much as their repeated questions of if I’ve eaten dinner that day. As I ride the train back to Brooklyn, I wonder when this restlessness will cease and allow me to find what I am even looking for.

It’s unclear what I am leaving this summer with, because at times, it feels as though I am left with more gaping questions in my vision for social justice. Who do I do this work for? How do I build a political home? How do you articulate something you do not know, that does not yet exist? How do you go home when it no longer exists?

I trod up the darkness, unlock the door to breathe in the hot silence of the apartment. A thud and a clank as my bags fall to the ground, and keys onto the desk. I lie on the futon with only the phone glowing in the room. My fingers count out the hour differences before my thumbs drum out the number that my mother used to engrain in me as a child. 여보세요? She replies with the same thick kyungsang namdo accent from my childhood: 응, 그래. 밥묵었나?