Last night (the 25th) was the Mr. and Ms. World Pageant at Union. Serhiy represented Ukraine and, indirectly, all of Europe. He got third place and $25. An Okimi of BC came in second and Wael of Egypt came in first in the men's catagory. For women, a Samoan girl deservedly got first place. Anyone who can wear a dress made of bark and look fabulous deserves a prize. More importantly, before the pageant, there was a performance by a competitive clogging group from Lincoln. There was only one man in the troupe and he had a wedding band on. The lesson is, if you want to get married, join an all-women's sport. Sign me up for rhythmic gymnastics.
I had a student turn in a rough draft of a research poem discussing women's issues in the Middle East. Now, whenever someone tackles issues they have no personal experience with, it raises red flags. I know it would take an awful lot of research before I would ever try and write a poem about, oh, say, menopause. Even then, I'm not sure how I would establish any authority over the issue. I might know more about the subject than most men (were I to research it), but I still would feel comfortable only writing a man's perspective on the issue. I believe in learning and offering divergent voices in poetry, but some things are outside of my purview. And unlike some poets, I don't believe in channelling. My point is, she has little expertise on the subject, ergo the red flags.
Anyway, this poem posited that the standards regarding hajib ("modest dress") are tools of male oppression of women. Besides being terribly cliche, this is a pretty uncomplicated view. In my experience, uncomplicated views are cop outs and truth is rarely (if ever) simple. We must learn to accept a degree of uncertainty and live between extremes. I would think for many women hajib is very freeing. If we want to talk about tools of male social dominance, what about high heals and miniskirts?
More importantly, most of these standards are not imposed by men, but by women. In The Scarlett Letter, it is the women who deal most severly with the adulteress. Likewise, the horror stories of genital mutilations we hear about from Africa and the middle east are almost always carried out by women. I go even further and say that in our culture, women dress in their unhealthy and painful couture not for men but to compete with other women. I for one don't like high heels much or makeup, but women keep wearing them.
What do you think?
Further on the Muslim v. America culture war, the current "huh?" in the media is the proposed management of US naval ports by a state-owned firm from the UAE. Bush, who has never vetoed any bill, threatened to veto any action Congress would take to block the deal. We all know the individuals comprising the Bush administration have a lot of financial ties to the Middle East, so when he makes these strong statements in support of the UAE, we can only imagine there must be money moving in the background. That doesn't make me say "huh?" though. The astounding thing to me is that this could even be an issue. Congress wants to make a law restricting port management to only US firms. This doesn't answer my basic concern. How can I put this delicately: WHY ON EARTH AREN'T PORTS NATIONALIZED? What is wrong with our nation? If we say that it isn't secure for a staunch ally of ours to administer them, why are we leaving the job to any money hungry corporation?
I'm a big believer in nationalization of key industries. Contrary to popular belief, the nationalized industries are often more efficient than privately run ones. Just consider Medicare. While traditional Medicare programs costs $0.02 per dollar to administer, the newfangled Medicare HMOs cost $0.10-$0.20 per dollar to administer because profit taking has been added to the system. Even that is efficient compared to private insurance which costs $0.25 or more per dollar to administer. I also know that Amtrak is a failure of nationalization, but again, it's because it was poorly done. It became an everlasting profit generator for the banks that control it, the board of directors is made up of bankers who borrow money from themselves then let government bailouts pay off the interest without ever paying back the principle. That doesn't stop the principle of nationalization. Perhaps our most recent example of nationalization in the US is the TSA. Regardless what we think about them, at least we can now expect uniform harassment and humiliation at every airport. The Administration thought that the security of our air-ports was too important to leave to private corporations. So why are water ports less important? Huh?
I am proud to be a lefty and anyone who knows me already realizes that. Part of my personal liberal agenda is pacifism. That's part of why I avoid listening to the screaming right. The very sound of Limbaugh's, O'Reilly's, or Bush's voice sends me into an unchristian and unpeaceful state. Their malevolence seems to be contagious. Generally speaking, matching fire with fire doesn't work. I recently watched a BBC documentary called Lefties: Angry Wimmin and thought the rage they harboured served only to reinscribe the system they fought; had they gained power, they would have been little different or worse than the system they replaced. If your argument is for rational and human discourse, you just can't let yourself get mired in anger and hate.
That brings me to The BEAST's 50 Most Loathsome People in America. I read it today. It's funny. Really funny. Sure, there are a few that I don't agree with, overall it says the things I wish I could let myself feel. Each entry brings charges against a well-known American, cites one peice of evidence against them, then sentences them to a fitting punishment. For instance:
15. Karl Rove
Charges: A greasy pig whose only distinction in life is his total lack of decency. Rove is decidedly not a genius; he is simply missing the part of his soul that prevents the rest of us from kicking elderly women in the face. His admirers have elevated fanatical, amoral ambition to the status of a virtue, along with lying, cheating, and negligent homicide, all in the name of "values." Quite possibly the worst person in the worst White House in American history.
Exhibit A: "As people do better, they start voting like Republicans - unless they have too much education and vote Democratic, which proves there can be too much of a good thing."
Sentence: Lowered head first into oil refinery smokestack.
It's irreverant, irrational, and oh-so-fun. I read through the list, relished each punishment more than a good pacifist should, and now I will try my best to return to the world of reason and forgiveness. There's only one I can't let myself forget, number 4.
When I wrote about Transamerica, I wondered whether or not it was a good movie because of its literary value or simply because it's about a maligned and slighted segment of our population. I've been wondering the same thing about Brokeback Mountain, and when I heard this broadcast on NPR about the film, I thoroughly agreed.
"If not for the twist of the two main characters being gay cowboys," says Betty Baye, "would Brokeback Mountain be stirring up such a fuss? Would the movie be being talked about as if it was the best thing since sliced bread and undoubtedly a shoe-in for Oscars? I mean, I guess what troubles me in this case is the deliberate hype perpetrated by the spin machines to strongly suggest that the movie contains lots of hot sex scenes between two men. And if I was gay, and I'm not, I wouldn't necessarily think of Brokeback Mountain as the great break-through movie that many suggest it is. It's a fine movie. It's better than average in fact. But I believe that gay people will really know they've arrived when their special relationships aren't treated as oddities for which movie oddities have to be conned into seeing with promises of soft porn. Sex isn't what Brokeback Mountain is about."
I'm not sure about her "soft porn" statement, it didn't seem to me that anyone was selling it that way (perhaps condemning it for that). She is right though, it's not a terribly erotic movie. The average B horror flick is closer to homoerotica than Brokeback Mountain.
Like Ms. Baye says, it's a better than average movie. But it's not all that and a bottle of ketchup. It never embraces the romance of its premise. It never comes to terms with its tragedy. Much of the movie exists is an emotional limbo, and don't get me wrong, I like limbo. But I've even seen limbo done better. What does this movie have that other GLBT movies don't? Stars. The only GLBT film I know of to have bigger names was Philadelphia.
If I know my readership (and I probably don't), we need education on GLBT issues more than anyone because of our rather sheltered upbringings and conservative lifestyles. Movies are a great way of learning. They're just about the best things since books. Really. So you are probably saying, "Well, if not Transamerica and Brokeback Mountain, what then?" Don't get me wrong, you can still watch them, learn, and love it, but there are films that deserve more praise and a wider viewership. For example, Bad Education and Breakfast on Pluto both were much more memorable transgendered movies than Transamerica. And if any film, gay or straight, deserves an Oscar nomination this year, it's the Canadian film C.R.A.Z.Y (indeed, I dare say if you want to see gay-themed films that have artistic merit above and beyond their social statements, you had better get used to watching Francophonic cinema).
Those are my thoughts du jour. The rest of this post will be thoughtless, yet related.
Yesterday in class at Union we were discussing research-based poems and they had all (supposedly) read a handout I'd given them that featured poems written by some of my former classmates. One of the poems was the result of a research project on taxidermy and I was telling the students that, though I still loved the poem, it wasn't exactly my favorite from that writer. However, most of his taxidermy series had so much homoeroticism in the poems I'd probably be sacked for sharing it with students at Union, bastion of decency that it is. One of the students exclaimed, "You mean he's gay?"
"Yes," I replied. "And a really great guy."
"Oh. I didn't think a gay guy would write about hunting."
Perhaps, if nothing else, Brokeback Mountain can teach America that "the gays" can shoot animals too.
Today I amused myself greatly and consistently. Inside jokes are like that. They have great staying power. And this joke was waaaayy inside. I never verbalized it. I never shared it with anyone else (until now). It was my joke and mine alone.
You see, today, February 15, besides being the Roman holiday of Lupercalia, is my birthday. And I wore a suit. It’s a new suit. I bought it in January, but this is the first I’ve actually worn it as a suit. You could say, it’s my birthday suit.
That’s the joke.
I know it might not be very funny, but I have low expectations and it’s my joke. Though now that I think about it, Home Movies may have mentioned something to this effect in an episode. Anyway, no one put the two together all day, probably because they didn’t know it was my birthday. Even then though, my students who inexplicably knew it was my birthday didn’t make the connection. But now you all know, so it’s a public joke. And I’m still way too pleased with myself.
However, I’ve now changed out of the suit and will start working on not starting my sentences with conjunctions. Or something like that.
On Tuesdays I wear t-shirts. Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays I must work and therefore feel the need pull out my teacherly identity-kit; but on my days off, I still wear t-shirts. I like wearing red t-shirts. I have my CCCP “red” shirt, a Union College red shirt, a Project Impact red shirt, a Nebraska Cornhuskers red shirt, and a few others. Each makes a definite statement about who I am and where my loyalties lie. Clothes are always entwined in identity. Rarely do I have to think twice about which red shirt to wear. The only normal limitation is that I don’t wear the Huskers shirt when I know I’ll be at UNL because it’s just so conformist to wear it on campus.
Today, being associated with hearts and other bloody matters, I wanted to wear red. Since I wasn’t planning on visiting UNL, my options were wide open. I grabbed something red, and as I was putting it on, I realized I had a new factor to take into account when choosing a red shirt. It was my Danmark shirt.
Back in 2000, I’d taken the ferry from Świnoujście, Poland, to Copenhagen, Denmark. It was a lovely ride and a lovely city. With the exception of the rather obtuse fellows at passport control, I found the place quite homey. The people were friendly and well kempt, the city was beautiful in the expected Scandinavian ways, but had a bit of flamboyance too. The museums even went out of their way to be fun and informative. It seemed like everyone rode bikes and hardly anyone felt the need to lock them.
There was one rather stunning thing. The people had an odd habit regarding rubbish bins. I saw many people—young, old, well-dressed, or a bit on the tawdry side—opening the lids on garbage cans and dumpsters and taking a looksy. It’s not something you expect in America, at least not from well-dressed people, but on the other hand, if you and I didn’t feel any social restraint, how many of us wouldn’t look in the garbage out of curiosity? As the saying goes, “One man’s garbage is another man’s treasure.”
All in all, I was impressed by the place. It was one of the few cities in which I felt more at home than I do when I’m actually at home. There are some places like that; they almost make you believe in reincarnation. And to express my love for the country, I bought a t-shirt, red with a white cross, just like the flag and printed across the font, the word, “Danmark.”
Back in 2003, when Denmark declared war on Iraq, I was a bit disappointed. I mean, it was the first time they had declared war since 1864 (I think). Even in World War II, while occupied and fighting the Germans, they were officially neutral. At least they had the decency to declare war before invading though, the US can’t seem to be bothered anymore (our most recent declaration of war was against Romania in 1942). And then I heard about a group of 24 Danes suing their Anders Fogh Rasmussen (the Danish PM) for misleading their country into war and that restored my faith in the Danish people, if not their government.
That brings my relationship with Denmark to the present. Unless you’ve been living under a rock, you’ve probably heard about the ongoing hullabaloo around the world regarding some satirical caricatures published by the Jyllands-Posten. There have been demonstrations and riots around the world. Embassies have been burnt. Denmark may face a recession if the boycott on Danish goods continues; they've already had people lose jobs as a direct result of the boycott. Nestle and other European companies have started advertising their lack of Danish connections. In South Africa, a newspaper decided to publish the cartoons and the editor, a Muslim woman, has received a backlash from her own family. It has also been reported that the cartoons circulating in many Islamic countries are not even the same cartoons that the Jyllands-Posten originally printed. (This also makes one question who they should be protesting. Shouldn’t the demonstrations target the Imams and other leaders who circulated such images to achieve their own aims?)
The problem, it seems, is quite complicated. For one, Sunni Hadith (Islamic tradition) forbids any depictions of, well, pretty much anything. That’s why Sunni art tends to be abstract, decorative, or calligraphic. That hasn’t stopped images from becoming a regular part of most Muslim’s lives, but in regards to Allah (Praise be unto Him) or the Prophet Muhammad (PBUH), they usually observe the ban. However, Shi’ite and Sufi Muslims have, on occasion, created depictions of Allah (PBUH) and Muhammad (PBUH). So, the real issue isn't so much the publications of depictions as the widespread belief that all Arabs and all Muslims are terrorists, which the caricatures reinforced. The protestors often identify the source of their anger as really being the secularism of the west and not the images. I'm sure there are plenty of little things that added up to this.
Of course, we in the Occident value freedom of expression (praise be unto it) as highly as the protestors value their prophet (PBUH). And in this case, the Muslim's greatest ally in the west, the Liberals and Radicals, are the greatest supporters of what has offended them. To most of us (and I locate myself as a politically liberal Westerner here), these protests are incomprehensible and destructive. Seeing the flag of a "mostly harmless" sort of nation like Denmark being burnt hurts much more than seeing my own national symbols destroyed. My gut reaction is to join the nationalists/fascists in our country in supporting the continued culture war. That's how much I love freedom of expression (pbui).
I will of course refrain from any such rash action. Reactionary thinking is what leads to these situations in which both sides operate on the theory that two wrongs make a right. They don't. And the eye for an eye stuff will make us all blind (thank you Gandhi).
Because the two sides have different assumptions from which they build their arguments, they will never arrive at a mutually acceptable conclusion. The war between the West and the Muslim world has been described as World War IV and I'm starting to believe it. Competing ideologies have grown to the point where they turn to violence and intimations there of to achieve dominance. I, of course, object to all wars, even cold ones (which this is not).
Let me illustrate the sort of differences in assumptions. The Jyllands-Posten has already apologized; the protestors want the national government to apologize. The government had nothing to do with the publication. But in much of the world, it's assumed that anything that gets printed is the government’s opinion. This reveals the protestors have no concept of what the freedom of expression (pbui) the Westerners say they are defending really is. Meanwhile, a French paper printed the cartoons along side a number of caricatures lampooning other religions to make the point that they are not treating Islam differently than any other religion. The Muslim response to this has been that they believe in showing respect for all prophets and gods, not just their own. Of course, there is some debate over this. But this reveals a the West’s inability to revere the sacred.
The West's case is complicated by our self-imposed limits on free expression (pbui). For example, we don't print pictures of dead soldiers anymore, I guess to show our "support for the troops." Likewise, we don't show bin Laden's videos on our TV, in case we help the "terrorists." If we've already arrived at certain conventions to limit that freedom, why not add one more that's important to such a large population?
As much a believer as I am in free expression (pbui), I limit my own all the time. When I was writing for Around the Clock News, I knew there were things about Union College and its students that I wouldn't publish. But if someone wrote them in another forum, I'd still support their right to do so. In front of a class, I might not say everything I want because I know I'm representing more than just myself—a college, an academic field, and a religious group. When I lived in Poland and Ukraine, I was always cognizant of creating a representation of America and protestants. On several occasions, people told me that I had changed their opinion of America. I’m not representative, but that doesn’t matter to others. We are never just ourselves . . . which brings me back to my choice of shirts.
Who would I be associated with, in my Danmark shirt? Why, the British National Party (BNP) for one. They are the national anti-Socialist party of modern Britain, quite similar to our own right wing Republicans actually. Their website is selling a pro-Denmark shirt. I might also be in the company of Italy's Northern League Party. I don't particularly like either of them, and a quick survey of the links that come up when I search for "support Denmark" doesn't really encourage me to wear the shirt either.
I’ve always had a hard time with my German identity. Even Johnnes Rau said it's hard to be proud to be German. When Ted bought me a shirt celebrating our German heritage long ago, I usually avoided wearing it in public. Increasingly it's also hard to take pride in American citizenship. That's one reason I always tell people I'm from Nebraska and let them wonder which country that's in. I never thought that my Danish heritage would become an equally avoidable subject.
I really do side with Denmark on this one. Not the newspaper, but with the State. The law shouldn’t change. If anything, we need laws regarding freedom of expression (pbui) relaxed. But we need to also show voluntary respect and a sense of good taste. Even taking the side of the Danish state, I decided not to wear the shirt. I may support them, but I don’t want to be associated with their supporters and I don’t want to alienate anyone with a different opinion. So, I think for now, I will pray for a peaceful resolution and wear my Soviet shirt. It's red and much less controversial.
P.S. Here's a fun little clip from a recent episode of Hyperdrive. The Danes are heading an international force to stop drug runners in space and a British captain finds that the Danes are actually helping the smugglers.
Given Murphy's Law and my often slipshod typestry, which letter was I predestined to leave out of the following sentence when I typed it as part of a handout for my innocent Union College students?
Then, shirts billowing like parachutes,
It's a line from Courtney Davis' poem "Every Day, the Pregnant Teenagers" in her collection, Leopold's Maneuvers.
A few, very few, of you might remember Nick Owen's love seat. It was red and blue plaid with a few other colors. And thanks to a broken central support, it really was a love seat. Anyone sitting on it would sink to the middle; any two people would end up cuddling whether they wanted to or not. When Stephan Kaiser asked Nick to help him plan a special evening with Crystal Schauer, Nick arranged the evening around the plaid loveseat. They are now married (Stephan and Crystal that is, Nick's still single). Anway, I have now seen three low budget movies in which the same type of loveseat with the same upholstery has been used as part of the set. The best of them was Sons of Provo, in which they reused it, making it seem like every character had at least one in their home (the nephew/manager had two). Strange coincidence or near miracle?
On a completely unrelated topic, Daniel was feeling sick and is now better while Serhiy and I are now suffering. A few, very few, of you might know that Melinda and I seem to share an immune system. When she is sick, I am well and vice versa. She has had a few maladies this year and is now feeling well. This has happened so many times it is well beyond coincidence. The logical conclusion to all of this is that one of us should just bite the bullet and spend the rest of their life hospitalized for the good of the other. I'd say I'd armwrestle Melinda for it, but she'd win.
As you know, armwrestling is how disputes should be solved. Imagine Saddam Hussein and George W. with two scorpions on the table, and you'll see what I mean. Petty and irrational prigs everywhere who need to feed their dominance addiction would have their needs met without the massacre of so many others. Also, all diplomatic meetings should be conducted in a jacuzzi. It would reduce the stress and world leaders almost always look ridiculous in bathing suits. I just think it would lead to a better world.
"... if you're not on videotape, or better yet, live on satellite hookup in front of the whole world watching, you don't exist. You're that tree falling in the forest that nobody gives a rat's ass about" (Palahnuik, Chuck. Survivor). This is my performative culture; I am your dancing monkey.
