Like much prison abolition work, the call for this anthology comes from frustration and hope: frustration with organizers against sexual assault and domestic violence who treat the police as a universally available and as a good solution; frustration with prison abolitionists who only use “domestic violence” and “rape” as provocative examples; and, frustration with academic discussions that use only distanced third-person case studies and statistics to talk about sexual violence and the Prison Industrial Complex (PIC). But, this project also shares the hope and worth of working toward building communities without prisons and without sexual violence. Most importantly, it is anchored in the belief that resisting prisons, domestic violence, and sexual assault are inseparable.
This anthology is calling for writing, rants, creative non-fiction, poetry, comix, and personal essays from survivors who are interested in discussing their unique needs in anti-violence work and prison abolitionism.
social media hiatus until June 1.
Roseanne riot grrrl segment. So cheesy, yet so awesome.
If ever someone calls you out for an insulting and oppressive remark…
1. Pause and reflect.
2. Do some work to unpack your privilege.
3. Don’t talk about your intentions, because they don’t really matter, and your insistence that you didn’t mean it doesn’t undo the sting. When you make it about you, about what you intended, how decent you are, you silence others and you make their hurt sting more. And it’s besides the point that “people are generally good and don’t mean to hurt others” [even though a few people do actually want to hurt others, and even though “good” vs. “bad” is a nearly useless binary when it comes to unpacking the structural and cultural causes of injustice].
So…
4. Don’t make it about you and your honour. The wake of the call-out is not your cue to go on a self-defense tangent. it’s not your cue to start owning the airwaves. it is your cue to start listening carefully. Don’t talk about how good you are, or how much worse other people are. This whole “I mean well/I pay taxes/Freedom of speech/That’s your opinion/Don’t accuse me of ill-intent” phenomenon in debates has gotten way outta control. Especially that last one. Labeling people as discriminators has, ridiculously, become more harmful than the acts of discrimination, and the self-defense of the “innocent until proven guilty/ not white/male/ablebodied/elite” discriminator has become more important than the calls for accountability (See para 4 of Teju Cole’s recent article in the Atlantic). You know what sucks more than being called oppressive? Being subjected to oppressive bullshit. And then being asked to prove it. And then having to make concessions so you don’t stoke the fires of righteous indignation in the person who lodged the insult or slur in the first place. And then it becomes nearly impossible to carry on the conversation, let alone find and protect an autonomous space in which to be respected and loved and encouraged.
So …
5. Avoid righteous indignation as a response to being called out. Swallow your privilege-pride and own up to the comment/action. It’s the “decent” thing to do, it’s the responsible thing to do. Even more decent and responsible would be to never do it in the first place. But baby steps.
6. Learn from the ensuing discomfort and disgust of being made accountable for hurtful actions and attitudes. If you feel uncomfortable in the wake of the accusation or realization that you’re implicated in wider oppression, good! Think about how children react to being told for the first time that something they did was hurtful. Sometimes, kids get that moral compass way earlier and they cry immediately following, they hurt because they realize they have the ability to inflict hurt in others. And they learn. Sometimes kids run away, throw a hissy fit, and refuse to face the facts. But in hindsight, or at least on some level, they see how it was wrong to steal the crayon (or whatever). Either way they learn. Adults… not so much.
7. I’ll say this again. Learn from the discomfort of having your own privilege revealed. It’s not comfortable to realize that your ancestors lived on stolen land. Or that your Anglo-sounding name gives you an edge in job interviews (not your experience). Or that your Canadian citizenship makes it easier to travel. Or that your temporary ablebodiedness means you don’t have to worry about whether you’ll make it anywhere relatively hassle-free. Or that your light skin colour means you won’t be randomly pulled over and questioned by the cops or in line at airport security. Or that your gender means you’ll be immediately taken seriously in most settings and situations. Or that your cis-gender makes it easy to choose a public bathroom.
It’s not comfortable to learn that the extent to which you take for granted all of the above is part of the reason why others live life with less ease and respect and safety and mobility.
Exemplar: A Tweep is told his remark has easily recognized sexist connotations, especially in context of the unfolding discussion. Tweep retorts: “Why don’t you take a poll [on whether it was sexist] and get back to me? Forget connotations, they’re based on your assumptions. Demonstrate how I was being sexist or take your label back.” and “Not sexist. Period.”
Bottom line: If your response is “prove to me how what I did was sexist/racist/ableist/homophobic/anti-semitic etc etc” or “you’re wrong, i’m right. end of story”… then you’re not doing it right. Instead, you’re
a) avoiding your responsibility to deal with the repercussions of your actions/comment/presence,
b) you’re asking someone else (who you insulted) to do the legwork to check your own privilege,
c) you’re making it very clear that the offense you take at being called out on sexism is far worse than the impact of your sexism (which you adamantly deny)
…. and all of this is a further enactment of your privilege. That is, you’re still part of the problem, but worse yet, you’re denying it! You’re like privilege-denying dude/person!
So… yeah… don’t do those things in a) through c), or anything resembling them.
Review
If ever someone calls you out for an insulting and oppressive remark…
Own it. Listen. Don’t jump to self-defense. Ask questions (of others and yourself). Think. Be respectful. Listen. Trust that maybe the person who called you out has dealt with this crap before. Deal with your guilt and discomfort like an adult (or… like a child, depending on how we think about it). Earn respect and trust. Read/watch/listen to something that makes you ask new questions instead of eliciting the same predictable knee-jerk responses. Reach out and ask for help in dealing with it (but don’t ask others to do your work). Google it like you do everything else (suggested searches: how to divest of privilege / how to undo privilege / how to be an ally of anti-oppression). Accept the fact that this process of unpacking and divesting of privilege is exactly that: a process. It takes time and work. Commit to it openly and as much as possible. And don’t do it because you expect credit, or thanks, or recognition. Do it because you see no other choice or way of living in this world. Do it because it’s right. It’s the decent thing to do.
Class dismissed. As always, the homework is of the daily and lifelong variety :)
(via jtaylmnop)
(via build-love-destroy)
I always just end up like:
(via fuckyeahandreagibson)
