A Functional, Feminist Multiculturalism

(As we haven’t had readings for this week, my blog has some extra free-reign today.  So I’ve decided to contemplate multiculturalism for this entry.  Let’s see where this goes!)

    Some feminists argue that multiculturalism, the belief that no individual has the right to judge or change a culture to which they do not belong, is a way to dodge difficult issues and implicitly oppress women.  Others argue that multiculturalism is necessary to limit cultural imperialism and oppression.  I believe that multiculturalism is useful in moderation.  Yes, it can tempt one to evade tough topics; however, it’s necessary, especially for those of us who belong to the “West” (the United States and industrialized Europe), to attain cultural humility.

Here is my model for a functional multiculturalism:

    The first aspect of multiculturalism is dialogue.  Rather than allowing multiculturalism to suppress individuals’ opinions, it can be employed to ensure equality of representation.  People are entitled to state their opinions of different cultures’ practices and beliefs, but they must do so with an attitude of reciprocity.  In exchange for sharing their ideas, they must be willing to hear other cultures’ assessments of their own culture, and they must grant those opinions equal value.

Assumptions and Accusations

    One issue in need of this reciprocity is the ongoing Western obsession with veiling.  Within Western discourse, the veil is seen as a tool used by male tyrants to oppress women, creating slaves to patriarchy.  However, most women who wear a veil choose to and recognize the multiplicity of meaning behind that garment and its various forms.  Anthropologist Lila Abu-Lughod addresses this fixation, claiming that Western reduction of the various forms of headgear worn by women in other parts of the world down to ‘the veil’ has “artificially divided the world into separate spheres…where women shuffle around silently in burqas,” distracting the public from real issues at-hand.  The West doesn't allow differentiation between ‘the veil’ as worn by Turkish, Afghan, Yemeni, or Algerian women.  Lazreg calls this “a new form of reductionism” in which “difference becomes essentialized.”  That is, a variety of human existences are reduced to one category of “victim” which can be “saved” by Western “liberators.”

Self-Reflexive Dialogue

    Obviously, multiculturalist dialogue is in order.  First off, women who wear a veil need to speak for themselves about their reasons for it and have their voices heard.  Secondly, the West could use an outsider’s critical reflection on women’s dress in its own cultures, such as bikinis, business suits, and hair-care.  Reciprocity of dialogue is necessary to overcome monolithic assumptions prevalent in dress-discourse today.

    The second step of multiculturalism involves restraint in action.  If change occurs in a culture, it must arise from within the changing societies, and the process must never leave the control of that society’s actors.  Even after reciprocal critical dialogue, conclusions still might be unattainable, leaving only assumptions.  Acting upon assumptions instigates cultural imperialism.  However, if members of another culture ask for action to be taken of their own accord, you can consider it.  Multiculturalism in this instance is enacted by the outsiders meticulously following the insiders’ instructions, respecting their autonomous choices.

    In moderation, multiculturalism is not bad for women: it enables autonomy and recognizes agency.  It should not be used to escape tough issues, but rather to engage in critical, reciprocal dialogue that illuminates various perspectives.  As Shareefeh Hamid Ali, one of the original members of the UN Commission on the Status of Women, pointed out in 1935, “help and friendship…will be far more effective and will be cordially reciprocated” than “any arrogant assumption of superiority or patronage.”  Thus, actions taken by outsiders of any culture must await and obey specific requests of the insiders.  Multiculturalism requires seeing others’ lives as meaningful, accepting others’ contributions to and critiques of one’s own culture, and respecting the autonomous choices of another in determining their own destiny.

Making a Sustainable Movement - is it Possible?

     Today's readings were a little bit too real for me right now.  We looked at Power in a Movement by Judith Stadtman Tucker, the same author I talked about in Market Logic Motherhood and founder of The Mother's Movement Online, and The Mother's Movement:  The Challenges of Coalition Building in the Twenty-First Century by Patrice Diquinzio, Associate Provost at Washington College and former professor of feminist philosophy.  These two articles detailed the way that social movements ought to be structured in order to be sustainable and effective.

     As a co-organizer in the recent "Enough! - The New Face of St. Olaf" movement on campus, the suggestions and shortcomings of these two articles were extremely relevant to my own life at this very moment.  As I stated in an article released in the Manitou Messenger yesterday, "Rather than simply talk about the issues, we culminated our event with a call to action, beginning the student-led organization that has evolved" into what it is today.  Unlike John Mayer, we are not "waiting on the world to change," but making the change happen.  As Tucker stated in her article, "I'm no longer satisfied with writing and talking ... I want to get the job done."  And that is exactly what we are trying to do.

     As I read the articles on activism, I couldn't help but compare our movement with the ideals outlined in the texts.  One of the first requirements that Tucker lays out is that we must think beyond ourselves.  As a group comprised of a wide variety of different people organizing around an even wider array of issues (racism, classism, sexism, heterosexism, ableism, religious intolerance, sizeism, etc.), I think we pretty adequately fit that description.  The second requirement is balancing talk and action.  In our initial forum on March 11th and our open letter published online on Tumblr and Facebook and circulated around campus in print, we "talked" a lot.  Now we are trying to take the information we have presented and move toward "action" on our propositions for change.  Next Wednesday, May 1st, 2013 we are organizing a Solidarity Rally in the Quad to bring these issues up in public and show just how many people are affected, personally or indirectly, by discrimination and hatred at St. Olaf College.

     Tucker then talks about "building on-ramps to activism" as a means of sustaining a movement, stating that "multiple entry and exit points for first-time and seasoned activists" are essential to success.  This is one area of our movement that I think is struggling somewhat.  Although we would love to have more people engaged in the daily tasks of organizing, we haven't found an effective way of reaching out to new students and keeping them involved.  After our original meeting with 150 attendees, 102 of whom signed up to be a part of the movement.  But by the time we had finalized our open letter, only 20-some of us were regularly attending meetings.  Many other students continued to check in with those of us who were regular attendees, explaining that school, work, meetings, and other commitments kept them from being actively involved - all of which are totally valid reasons.  However, this analysis leaves me wondering how we can build as much flexibility (identified as essential by both Tucker and Diquinzio) as possible into our movement from here on out.

     Similarly, I find myself wondering about how well we have executed the coalition-building discussed by Diquinzio.  Though at the start we invited every single student organization and academic department to our presentation (I literally emailed every alias or contact person), we have proceeded largely on our own.  This has not been out of any separatist motive, but simply a function of how we proceeded.  As we wanted to keep the movement student-led, we did not pursue official recognition or faculty leadership.  In so doing, we kept our autonomy, but limited our resources.  As we move on in a more public way - the Solidarity Rally, supporting Carleton's similar efforts, meeting with administrators, etc - we can hopefully become a more interdependent, coalition-based movement.

Ultimately, I think our struggle to be the most effective, sustainable movement we can be comes down to the wise words of Maya Angelou:

Do the best you can until you know better.

Then when you know better, do better.

Enough! is doing the best that we can,
and as we know better we will do better.

Motherwork and Republican Motherhood

     This Monday’s reading was the article “Racially Conscious Mothering in the ‘Colorblind’ Century:  Implications for African American Motherwork” by Camille Wilson Cooper, an associate professor in Educational Leadership and Cultural Foundations Department at the University of North Carolina at Greensboro.  In the article, Cooper elaborates upon the struggles and strategies many African American women employ as they raise children in the United States today.  Going off of Eduardo Bonilla-Silva’s term “color-blind racism” in his book “Racism Without Racists,” Cooper explores how the newly conceptualized racial order impacts African American mothers’ childrearing.  Ultimately, Cooper comes up with the category “motherwork” – racially conscious mothering that seeks to empower children through a meaningful racial identity in a society that systematically degrades and oppresses people of color.

     As I read Cooper’s work, I found myself comparing her concept of “motherwork” to an earlier concept of “republican motherhood.”  We read about "republican motherhood" in the article "Muslim Motherhood: Tradition in Changing Contexts" by Gail Murphy-Geiss, a professor of sociology and feminist and gender studies at Colorado College.  Overall, the "Muslim Motherhood" article was terrible - full of over-generalizations, Orientalist judgments, and sweeping claims with no self-reflexive analysis - however, the idea of "republican motherhood" was intriguing.  Murphy-Geiss explains that throughout history mothers have been expected to raise a certain type of child for the common good.  In her analysis, she claims that as Muslim women become mothers in the increasingly globalized world, they are "rethinking what it means to be Muslim in non-Muslim contexts" and instilling that knowledge into their children in order to maintain a meaningful identity.

     When comparing motherwork to republican motherhood, it is evident that mothers from oppressed groups constantly have to act as "freedom fighters in addition to being bearers of culture, identity and love" (Cooper) because the dominant culture surrounding them and their families despises, negates, denigrates, and/or ignores their existence and value.  For this reason, Cooper concludes that "racially conscious mothering remains an important form of political resistance."

     While I agree with her, I wonder a few things:

Why mothers - not parents, fathers, families?

What is the experience of children who are told in the home that their race, ethnicity, nationality, and religion are important and valuable but encounter strong messages in the public sphere that counteract their racially conscious upbringing?

When will we, or will we ever, live in a society that doesn't necessitate this type of activist childrearing?

Will women of color, and other marginalized groups, always have to defend their children from attacks on their very identity?

Market Logic Motherhood

(Forewarning, this blog is being written as I participate in a very intensive Discernment Interview Placement weekend, and thus might be shorter and less profound.  I also don't have a way to get my hand-drawn photo onto this post from the retreat center where I'm staying.  Nevertheless...)

As tiny as it may seem to some, something that really stuck out to me from today's reading of "From 'Choice' to Change: Rewriting the Script of Motherhood as Maternal Activism" by Judith Stadtman Tucker, the founder and editor of The Mother's Movement Online, was a relatively unimportant 10-word quote:

"imposing market logic onto the complex moral universe

of social reproduction"

In this sentence, Tucker is analyzing the "rhetoric of choice" - anything is feminist as long as you choose it - as a feminist rationale for stay-at-home-motherhood.  However, what struck me about this quote is that it is yet another way capitalist mentality has invaded our personal and interpersonal lives.  (Now that you know my a little better, this connection to capitalism probably doesn't surprise you too much.)

Yet again, we can see capitalism invading the very way that we think about families and parenthood (specifically motherhood), not just the way that we are forced to live them out due to work-life policies.  From our language ("Time is Money" - I spend time/money, save time/money, waste time/money, budget time/money, etc.) to our logic ("Cost-Benefit Analyses"), market mentalities have slipped into every crevice of our beings.  In Tucker's article she notes how we apply this market logic of weighing costs and benefits of choices to mother in certain ways, rather than challenging the fact that these decisions have to be 'weighed' at all!

What would parenting look like in the United States if we could conceive of it outside the confines of not only the capitalist demands of survival, but the capitalist mentality of the very way that we encounter life - our capitalist hermeneutic?

Cross-Racial Surrogacy and Reproductive Exploitation

     Monday's reading, "Brown Bodies, White Eggs:  The Politics of Cross-Racial Gestational Surrogacy" by Laura Harrison, a doctoral candidate in gender studies at Indiana University, elaborated upon the racial implications of surrogacy.  Now, because gestational surrogacy uses sperm and egg that do not belong to the woman bearing the child, women of color can give birth to 'white' babies.  Harrison argues that despite the increasing potential and popularity of gestational surrogacy, the public discussion of the trend has not adequately handled the racial implications of such technology.

     In her analysis, Harrison reveals the racialized discourse and implications of such reproductive developments through a critical historical, legal, and anti-racist feminist lens.  Women of color, especially African American women in the US, have historically been exploited for their reproductive capacities by wealthy whites - for production of slave labor, nursing white infants, raising white children, and, now, birthing white babies.  Because gestational surrogacy involves a monetary exchange, Harrison categorizes cross-racial surrogacy as an alternate manifestation of the same reproductive exploitation.

     Evidencing the lack of conversation about these issues, I only found one example of racial theorizing about gestational surrogacy in my outside research - a blog post on the Feminist Law Professors website which read:

"One could envision a dystopian future in which financially-needy Black women, who disproportionately comprise the ranks of this country’s poor, are hired to give birth to the babies of rich White couples...It would reiterate the Black woman’s body as a laboring one (on multiple levels) while doing nothing to eradicate discourses in which the poor Black woman figures as an incompetent mother. That is, the Black woman would be empowered to produce children, yet remain disempowered to raise them."

     Although both Harrison and the post quoted above agree about the nature of this dystopic exploitation of women of color, Harrison posits it as a present reality.  She identifies a pattern of cross-racial gestational surrogacy and its problematic consequences, and she labels it the "outsourcing of gestation."  This outsourcing can be international, but is also symbolic - brown bodies carry babies for white folk once again.

Education OR Welfare, take your pick.

     A. Fiona Pearson, a professor of sociology at Central Connecticut State University, wrote "The Erosion of College Access for Low-Income Mothers" based on her research on welfare reform and African American single mothers who were enrolled or had been enrolled in TANF - Temporary Aid for Needy Families.  In her analysis, it is evident that welfare reforms further disadvantage already marginalizes social groups, (90% of TANF recipients are women, and 65% are racial/ethnic minorities) especially single mothers of color, by emphasizing the importance of work over that of education.  Pearson is not the only person to notice this disenfranchisement:  according to the National Bureau for Economic Research, "Welfare reforms have reduced both the probability that women aged 21-49 will attend high school and that those aged 24-49 will attend college, by 20-25 percent."

     Pearson further links race to welfare policy by tracing the history of welfare from its beginnings in the 1930s as part of the New Deal program to support families in the Great Depression and later widows of WWII veterans.  At the time that it was primarily serving white families whose need was deemed worthy, the program was well-received by the general US public.  However,

"as civil rights legislation and increased federal investment in poverty reduction programs in the 1960s allowed more and more low-income women of color to apply for an receive AFDC benefits, both public sentiments and political rhetoric regarding the program became increasingly racialized and negative" (220, emphasis added).

When public assistance helped white families, all was fine, but when it began to help non-white families as well, the public and politicians developed pejorative terms like "Welfare Queen" to describe those in need.

     However, those who claim "Welfare: You work hard so they don't have to." obviously have never tried to get benefits themselves.  Programs like TANF  promote marriage; emphasize paid work over education and, imposed strict time limits on how long you can receive public assistance (220).  According to the 1996 welfare reform guidelines, families can only receive aid for up to 5 years "as long as parents engaged in work or educational activities."  The vagueness of that statement gives states discretionary power to determine which "educational activities" count.  Many decided that securing a job ought to take precedence over pursuing a degree and consequently only pay during the first 12 months of a program that lasts a maximum of two years.

     In her chapter, Pearson recalls several stories of women who wanted to attend college but couldn't balance the strict work requirements of the TANF program with their education and family responsibilities.  In order to continue receiving the benefits that sustained their family, these women were forced to drop out of school to work.  On woman, Nicky, determined to go back to school after dropping out due to TANF, secured a childcare arrangement with her mother and dropped out of TANF to go back to school.

     I can't help but reflect on our country's obsession with work when I hear about the situation of families in need of public assistance. In the United States, people are defined by the jobs they hold. One of the first questions you ask when you meet a person in the US is "What do your parents do?" This is assumed to define who they are and who you are as a consequence of their work.  This is not a universal; in fact, it's pretty atypical.  In most other countries, people ask, "What are your parents like?"  When I studied abroad in Ecuador, people often asked me, "¿Cómo son tus padres?"  But when I answered, "Mi madre es dentista, y mi padre trabaja con refugiados en África." I received odd looks of confusion:  how was knowing that my mother is a dentist and my father a relief worker going to help them get to know me?

     Beyond the complete mismatch between our rhetoric of education (get one at all costs!) and our access to it (pay tons of money and go into debt so that you can work for the rest of your life to pay it off or just get a job instead), I believe that our culture's fascination with work as a way to prove one's worth is to blame for disenfranchising welfare policies.  If we continue to equate one's ability to make money with one's value as a human being, we will continue to exploit those around us and leave people scrounging for scraps under the table.

The Language of Class Conflict

     In the chapter of Reshaping the Work-Family Debate for Wednesday (yes, I read ahead), Joan C. Williams elaborates upon the idea of ideological and material differences between the Professional-Managerial class (PMC) and the Missing Middle class, describing the way that those differences become attacks and foster "Culture Wars as Class Conflict."  As I read the chapter, I couldn't help but notice how much the language of the two classes played a role in the conflict.  Williams provides examples of minor slip-ups as well as major offenses - and illuminates the very real need for diatopical hermeneutic engagement with these issues.

     One example of a minor slip-up that Williams provides is Barack Obama's comment about arugula.  While campaigning in Iowa, Obama famously asked,

"Anybody gone into Whole Foods lately? See what they charge for arugula?"
 

Although well-intentioned, this slip-up evidenced a certain oblivion regarding Missing Middle life (and food).  Similarly, in class today Nadia brought up the implications of saying that you are "Well" or "Good."  In Professional-Managerial and other 'highly-educated' circles, to say "I'm well." is to indicate mastery of 'proper' English grammar.  However, the same phrase said to Missing Middle or other 'less-educated' circles signifies pretentiousness and condescension.

     Unlike the examples above, these minor slip-ups can also turn into major offenses.  Williams uses the example of Clinton and Obama's comments on religion in the Democratic primaries as they attempted to appeal to Missing Middle voters.  When attempting to explain the Missing Middle to his wealthier supporters, Obama said,

"You go into some of these small towns in Pennsylvania, and like a lot of small towns in the Midwest, the jobs have been gone now for 25 years and nothing's replaced them ... And it's not surprising then they get bitter, they cling to guns or religion or antipathy to people who aren't like them or anti-immigrant sentiment or anti-trade sentiment as a way to explain their frustrations."

The insinuation that the Missing Middle "clings" to their religious beliefs due to economic disenfranchisement is not only wrong, but horribly offensive.  This statement was rebuked by Hillary Clinton who, while campaigning in Indianapolis, said,

“The people of faith I know don’t ‘cling to’ religion because they’re bitter. People embrace faith not because they are materially poor, but because they are spiritually rich."

 

     Though Clinton made an okay recovery for the Democratic party, these assumptions, statements, and even phrases or wordings (cling vs. embrace) are not limited to oblivious politicians - they are made by Professional-Managerial class members all of the time.

 

    This morning I encountered a horrific example of the consequences of class-blindness acting out in words when I opened my Facebook.  As a vocal social media utilizer, I follow many progressive Facebook Pages - feminist, anti-racist, pro-queer, etc. - one of which is I Acknowledge that Class Warfare Exists, an anti-capitalist, pro-Palestine, pro-gun control, radically liberal group.  Today they had posted an article about a study which found that conservatives and gun owners are more likely to commit suicide.  However, their caption of the article read:

 

"Finally, some good news."

 

First I couldn't believe it; then I was sickened and appalled.  I understand that we hold very different opinions about a majority of social and political issues - however, it is absolutely unacceptable to insinuate that a person's political beliefs justify pleasure at their death, especially death by suicide. 

 

     After "unliking" the page, I couldn't help but wonder if these were the inevitable consequences of a growing culture-gap between the PMC and the Missing Middle.  If we don't start actively trying to engage in genuine understanding between these classes, we will continue to demonize those who disagree with us - even to the point of dehumanization, moving them beyond compassion, empathy, and hope.

Social Networks and Second-Generation Class Migrants

     In her chapter "The Class Culture Gap," Joan C. Williams addresses the oft-ignored, but ever-important, differing expectations and values between the Missing Middle class (median incomes of $35,000 to $55,000) and the Professional-Managerial class (median income of $125,000 - the top 15% of U.S. households).  One of the major differences that Williams describes is the Professional-Managerial’s focus on their children’s self-actualization versus the Missing Middle’s focus on their children’s self-regulation.

    A consequence and cause of these expectations is a difference in social and employment networks.  Williams claims that the Missing Middle is comprised of smaller and denser social networks.  These relationships, though fewer in number, are stronger in connection and support - often different members of families reside within miles of each other and talk daily.  The members of these communities, whether familial or not, depend on each other more heavily than do members of Professional-Managerial communities.  Professional-Managerial networks tend to be broader and weaker.  They know more people and have more far-reaching connections, but those connections are less maintained and provide fewer direct supports.

    Today's reading about class cultures was particularly striking after having come home from Spring Break.  My mom is what Williams would call a class migrant - someone who was raised in the Missing Middle class, but moved economically to the Professional-Managerial class when she became a successful dentist with her own private practice.  As such, she was raised within the small, dense social network that stresses self-regulation.  I, however, was raised in the Professional-Managerial class and, especially due to my time at St. Olaf College, have learned to navigate the network that relies upon the “strength of weak ties” and tells me to find self-fulfillment.  Due to past networking in order to gain a variety of experiences, I qualified for a job next year that will take me to Latin America - far away from my Nebraskan family.

    As a “second-generation” Professional-Managerial class member, I am still expected by my Missing Middle family to stay close to home, find a stable job, and be successful that way.  By my own Professional-Managerial expectations and peers I am expected to go out into the world, discover my vocation and identity, and achieve self-actualization.  I am moving to Latin America next year, that is decided, but I do feel conflicted about leaving my family.  I cherish our tight bonds, even though I might not be as physically present in their maintenance.  I wonder, do second or third generation class migrants ever fully leave their class background behind?  Should we?  Or is it better to combine the strengths of the two?

AND We're Back!

Hey folks!

Sorry about my unannounced absence.  I have just returned from a much-needed Spring Break and will be resuming regular posting tomorrow!

Sincerely,
~Revitalized Rachel