Monday, 17 May 2010

Discrmination by another name...

[To give you some context as to why I am writing this: see this post at Bitch PhD (and particularly check out the comments), this post at Feministe (and, oh my goodness, check out the comments); this post at Blue Milk; and this post at Student Activism.]

The funny thing about in-built privilege is that so-often the bearers of said-privilege really have no idea that they are exercising it or that they have come to feel themselves entitled to it. Instead, they justify it with all sorts of excuses and by reference to the prevailing status quo - as though 'the way things are' are, by definition, 'the way things ought to be'.

A few examples (past & present):

White privilege under Apartheid South Africa
(This continues to be exercised everywhere, don't get me wrong. It is just easier to point to blatantly obvious examples.) This privilege consisted in part of carving out 'white only' spaces and having draconian rules for when and how black people (and people of other colour) could enter such spaces.

Another less overt form of discrimination (and one that continues in most places in the world) is that many white people treat people of colour with less respect than they treat other white people. They talk down to them or overlook them altogether. This can mean that they receive a message that they have less value than white people, that they do not have their needs taken into consideration, and even that they will not be served in a shop, etc.

This is discrimination, pure and simple.

Male privilege under patriarchy
Historically, and still in many places and cultures, this privilege consists of carving out 'male only' spaces and occupations into which women might only be admitted if they conform to the bahavioural standards established to conform to the dominant-adult norm (i.e. act as though they have someone at home taking care of the house/children/etc; do not discuss their children/family obligations/'women's issues' etc; quit if they become pregnant/married; think & act in 'male' ways; etc). "Obviously" some occupations and spaces have remained off-limits because they are "clearly" unsuitable (having been established around the needs of the dominant-males). This might include anything from men's clubs, to voting, to governing, to military or front-line positions, etc...

Another less overt form of discrimination is that many men treat women (particularly women of a particular age, weight, appearance, etc) with less respect than they treat men. They talk down to them or overlook them altogether. This can mean that they receive a message that they have less value than men, that they do not have their needs taken into consideration, and even that they will not be served in a shop, etc.

As a feminist it is fairly easy for me to label all of these attitudes as discrimination, pure and simple.

Able-bodied privilege
While sometimes this is exercised in a very blatant manner, with people openly excluding disabled people from accessing certain spaces and (particularly) occupations, most often this privilege is exercised in a more subtle manner. Many many public spaces have been constructed in such a way that many disabled people have difficulty accessing them and/or difficulty in making use of them (i.e. shops & restaurants without ramp access and with insufficient space to fit a wheel chair, parks with stairs, offices located on higher levels of building with no lifts, a whole range of places that do not have accessible toilets, etc.). All of these spaces have been constructed around the capabilities and needs of able-bodies adults and we take this status quo for granted. In fact, many people view requests for alterations to be unreasonable or even as an expression of privilege!

Another form of this less overt form of discrimination is that many people treat people with disabilities with less respect than they treat able-bodies adults. They talk down to them or overlook them altogether. This can mean that they receive a message that they have less value than able-bodied people, that they do not have their needs taken into consideration or even that they will not be served in a shop, etc. (This may sound familiar by now, but, of course, it plays out in different ways and in different contexts than it does for able-bodied people of colour or women).

All of these practices and attitudes are discrimination, pure and simple.

And then we have children...

Adult privilege within our culture
This consists of carving out 'adult only' spaces into which children may only enter if they adhere to behavioural standards established to conform to the dominant-adult norm (i.e. adhere to a particular decibel level; remain seated rather than moving around; keep all emotions firmly in check; think & act in 'adult' ways, etc.). "Obviously" some spaces will remain off-limits because they are "clearly" unsuitable (having been established around the needs of the dominant-adults). This might include anything from cinemas, to a certain class of restaurant, to theatres, community meetings, or any of these "after a certain time of day", etc...

Children also suffer from less overt forms of discrimination. Most public spaces have been constructed in such a way that children have difficulty accessing them and/or difficulty in making use of them. Often it will be difficult for them to use the toilet without assistance and the sink will be too high for them to wash their hands. Their feet will dangle from the chairs and their natural inclination to stay mobile and to explore their environment will be constrained by tightly packed tables, low-level breakables, or a general atmosphere of intolerance. All of these spaces have been constructed around the capabilities and needs of able-bodies adults and we take this status quo for granted. In fact, many people view requests for alterations (most often made by parents, rather than children themselves due to the lack of agency of most children) to be unreasonable or even as an expression of privilege!

Additionally, most adults will feel entitled to treat children with less respect than they treat (able-bodies) adults. They talk down to them or overlook them altogether. This can mean that they receive a message that they have less value than adults, that they do not have their needs taken into consideration or even that they will not be served in a shop, etc...

Once again I'm going to go out on a limb and label all of these attitudes as discrimination, pure and simple.

Update: I had intended to point you in the direction of Anji's excellent Adult Privilege Checklist at the end of this post and I forgot. Hopefully, some people will still wander over there now...

...

In case you just want a small taste of it, here's a few samples of some of the comments at Feministe and Bitch PhD (all emphasis is mine):
I think there should be more of a social expectation of parents to consider the adults around them. I think that parents should not only expect to be talked to when their child acts up, and they don’t respond, but also expect to apologize to the stranger they may have upset or disrupted.
...
In fact one parent asked me, when I told her to discipline her child if they should stay home until their child behaves, and not go out. I say yes! Most likely they made the choice to have that child, and a part of making that choice is the responsibility that comes with it.
...
[Question:] "Tell me would, would you tell a disabled person to leave a restaurant because they were being to loud or making you uncomfortable?"

YES. If a disabled person was in a restaurant banging silverware on the table, or yelling at the top of their lungs, then YES it would not be bigoted or prejudiced or whatever of me to be both annoyed by it and to request that person leave the restaurant.

There are certain restaurants, I think, where it’s more “family friendly” and this kind of behavior is tolerated (I’m thinking of places like Red Robin.) But a fancy, quiet restaurant? Not acceptable, whether it’s a disabled person or a child.
...
Part of the “interacting with society” you think is so important includes getting told off, coldly glared about, and snidely whispered about when you behave like an idiot. Consider our contempt for your children just another useful learning experience for them.
...
I don’t like being around kids, the same way I don’t like being around loud, obnoxious people who monopolize conversations and can’t talk about anything except themselves, and I make no apology for that. If your child can behave like a reasonable human being [read 'adult'] in public, then good for you. But I get really, really tired of watching parents let their kids run amok while shrugging off the damage with “S/he’s only a chyyuuld.”
...
I, for one, would not tolerate a grown adult behaving that way [screaming for a drink] in a public place. Actually, not many people would. So if you’re really going to try to equate children with adults when deciding where and when they should be allowed in public, then you really ought to consider the social responsibility that that expectation creates. As an adult, I would NOT get away with things that children do in public for very long. So if you want your toddler to be considered the same as me, an adult, then your toddler should be responsible for behaving in an adult manner.
...
I don’t mind children in spaces like restaurants, as long as the children are well behaved. This largely is the responsibility of the parents (and largely the parents’ failure when the kid is a monster). […] I have zero patience for or tolerance of children who don’t behave.

I have never been and never will be fond of kids or want to be around them much. That has nothing to do with being feminist or antifeminist. It has to do with the fact that I don't like kids any more than I like peas. I do not want to hear children screeching in an expensive restaurant at 9:00 at night, when they should be in bed. I've seen parents bring their children into bars at night! I am civic-minded and I accomodate other people's children in appropriate situations as much as possible, but don't tell me that I have to start dressing more modestly because your sisters have children now (my now ex-boyfriend).
Now I think I need to have a lie down.

Monday, 10 May 2010

Naked Motherhood - part one (the horror hours)

I started pre-natal yoga classes the other week and I picked up this book called Naked Motherhood by Wendy LeBlanc.

Oh how I wish that I had found it before I had Lily; before I even decided to get pregnant. Honestly, I could have been so much better prepared.

In the book Wendy LeBlanc explores all those 'hidden truths' about the experience of motherhood - from the fact that pregnancy can often unexpectedly knock you for six, to the fact that so many women are so unprepared for the reality of labour that they wind up traumatised, to the myth that your life will go back to normal within a few months of the birth, and so on...

In researching for this book, LeBlanc surveyed and interviewed a diverse group of women around Australia and so her conclusions are not based solely on a small circle of friends or her own experience. Instead she provides a wealth of examples, in addition to statistic information to back up her findings. And some of those findings are pretty telling:
  • 43% of mothers surveyed expected to be exhausted during the first twelve months of their first baby's life
  • 90% reported an impact on coping; 63% in the severe to extreme range
  • 67% of women surveyed expected their sleep to be interrupted by their first babies
  • 84% reported an impact on coping; 63% in the severe to extreme range
  • almost no-one expected these interruptions to go on for more than three months
  • all expected their babies would sleep for long periods of time throughout the day
Logically I knew that babies woke up often during the night and that my sleep might be interrupted while Lily was very young. I was nervous about this, because I have always been very attached to sleeping and felt that I 'needed' at least 8 hours every night in order to function. I figured that after the first few months we would work out how to settle her easily and that I would have the chance to sleep during the day, 'since babies sleep so much'. Ha.

Lily slept for a maximum of 40 minutes at a time during the day until she was about nine months old (and for most of those she was attached to me) when she finally started sleeping for about 1 hour & 20 minutes twice a day (for a short blissful period). Often it would take me over an hour to settle her beforehand. She slept for no more than 3 hours at a time at night for almost 3 years. For long periods she would wake up every 40 minutes for a feed. Sometimes she would have only just come off before the 40 minutes was up and so only 5 or 10 minutes would elapse between feeds. To say that I was exhausted almost feels like an understatement. Sometimes I felt as though my very sense of self had been shattered.

I was utterly unprepared for this.

Another thing that LeBlanc covers is the 'horror hours'. Again if I had even heard of these I had not listened. As she puts it:
Studies have shown that the average baby cries for three hours per day, the majority of which occurs between the hours of 6pm and 9pm. These are the 'horror hours'.
At this end of the day the mother is tired too. She may have been on duty for twelve hours already. Still there are hours stretching ahead filled with walking and consoling and feeding and cajoling before she can sit down and relax-or sink into a blissful sleep herself. By five in the afternoon a mother may feel she has given every inch of herself throughout the day and now has not a drop of giving left in her. Yet, somehow, she must go on giving of herself until either her partner arrives home to relieve her or her baby sleeps. [p.43]
Lily had reflux when she was born and this gave her terrible heartburn that got worse as the day went on. By the time it got to about 5:30pm she was exhausted and in pain and would start screaming. At first we had absolutely no idea what to do. We tried everything. We walked her, bounced on the swiss ball (something that often worked at other times), rubbed her tummy, gave her a warm bath, sang to her, rocked her, fed her, etc... and she just kept screaming.

I hate the sound of babies crying. It breaks my heart and I want to stop it by comforting them. But this feeling is nothing compared to how I felt about my own baby. I would have done anything to make her feel better. I felt like I was a complete failure as a human being (and, of course, as a mother) because I couldn't make her feel better. It felt as though the sound of her crying was ripping me apart. Again, I never expect to be challenged so completely.

(Eventually, we did discover that if I put her in the hug-a-bub (sling) just before the horror hours and sang her to sleep then we could walk around outside and keep her asleep for the duration of the horror hours. We started an evening ritual of wearing and walking Lily around the city and didn't go home until after 8:30pm when we knew that if she woke she was less likely to scream. AND she grew out of this stage at around 2 months.)

So, yes, those would have been useful things to prepare myself for (if I had been willing to listen), particularly because LeBlanc shares a wealth of sensible suggestions for dealing with all of these issues.

However, what I like the most about this book is the way that she uses it as an opportunity to tackle another huge facet of motherhood - the fact that it brings you face to face with the ugly side of TEH PATRIARCHY.

To be continued in Part Two (I had really better go to bed)...

Tuesday, 27 April 2010

A little culture

El Castillo, Chichen Itza


The Market

Group of a Thousand Columns

Mayan ruins in Tulum (by the beach!)


In order to make us feel like better people (and 'cause we were actually interested) we did leave the beach a couple of times while we were in Mexico in order to take a look at a couple of Mayan ruins. The first one that we visited was Chichen Itza, a large Mayan city near the modern city of Valladolid. The most impressive feature is the large pyramid-like structure called El Castillo, but since you can't climb that, Lily had more fun mounting The Market and mucking about in the Group of a Thousand Columns.

We also trotted along to the ruins at Tulum, which were particularly cool for being right on the ocean (they were built on cliffs that look out over the Caribbean sea and there is a perfect little white sand beach right in the middle of 'town'. So cool!) It certainly made for a picturesque setting.

We only spent about an hour & a half at each site so as not to make it boring or exhausting for Lil' and, honestly, that was nice for us too. They are seriously impressive, but after traipsing about in the hot sun for that long I was happy to walk away with my fairly superficial impressions. I'm shallow like that.

Beach life

Evening by the sea in Isa Mujeres


Dancing with a dolphin. (She got a kiss too!)

The view from our cabana in Tulum

Punta Allen in the Sian Ka'an Biosphere Reserve

After the brilliance that was this holiday (now sadly departed) we have decided that all of our family holidays with small people will be on the beach. Right on the beach. But preferably somewhere that does not require 22 hours in the air to get to...

Wednesday, 7 April 2010

Isla Mujeres, Mexico







Exhaustion and sickness fading fast. Sunshine, warm turquoise waters, sand and really big juices taking over. This feels like a real holiday.

Friday, 2 April 2010

A surreal week

It's been a long, strange week and it isn't quite over yet.

First, I said goodbye to my baby and Paul at the airport (which broke my heart) and jumped on a plane to the US.

Then I flew for far far too long and spent far too much time in airports and horrible, demeaning security clearance queues.

Then I finally arrived (36 hours later) in Syracuse, NY for a conference on the Right to Water (the subject of my thesis).

The conference itself was great. The other presenters were not only really lovely, interesting people, but their presentations were stimulating and challenging and gave me heaps to think about as I finish off my thesis.

However, I was a complete mess. I didn't really sleep on the plane (for the first time ever) and then I managed not to sleep during my overnight lay-over in Chicago (due to a combination of jet lag and feeling Lily's absence like a hole in my heart), and so by the time I arrived in Syracuse I was utterly exhausted. I was the kind of exhausted (and dehydrated, I think) that made my eyes stay bloodshot for three days straight, my skin redden and prickle and my nose bleed continuously. It was quite unpleasant.

Despite this, I am glad that I went - particularly because it gave me the chance to catch up with a very special, friend from high school (I attended high school in the US for a time). She took me to a vegan cafe and we talked and talked and talked late into the night (while I inhaled protein, after having been fed on carbs & zucchini for two days straight). I love those friends where it doesn't matter how long it has been since you last saw them, you can talk to each other as though you were just picking up a conversation from the day before. The only sad part about it was that I then had to leave and digest the fact that her and I live so very very far apart.

Anyway, now I am in LA. I have finally had some sleep, but now I have a nasty head cold (hardly surprising really). I'm waiting for Paul and Lily to arrive. They were due in this morning, but their flight was delayed out of Sydney for 8 hours (poor loves) and so they won't be here until this evening. No doubt they will be utterly exhausted and so I plan to spend today resting up so that I can do everything possible to help them to recover once they get here.

Oh, I can't wait to see them. I want to crush them both with snuggles!

Thursday, 25 March 2010

Quick catch up

Argh, where is the time going? I can't keep up with life at the moment. But I did want to just stop by and post a quick catch up - a little list of the most significant things going on for us right now.
  • I'm pregnant. Yep, odd declaration for a bullet point I know, but life's been a bit like that at the moment.
  • I am flying to the US on Sunday to attend a conference on the Right to Water... without Lily. Ahhh! I am a little sad about this and anxious about how it will go, but I think she'll be fine. She's gotten so big recently.
  • The following Thursday P and Lily are flying to the US to meet up with me and then we are all flying to Mexico! Yay!
  • We'll be in Mexico for three weeks and plan to do lots of beachy stuff and a bit of cultural stuff too - like visiting some Mayan ruins etc... Most significant of all (as far as Lily is concerned), we are also planning to swim with dolphins.
  • I am massively behind schedule with my PhD due to 3 months of severe nausea and vomiting. Yes, I was lucky enough to get hyperemesis gravidarum (severe morning sickness) and it wasn't very conducive to thesis writing...
  • I am a little bit stressed right now...
I hope that you are all going really well and plan to be back some time soon with some more interesting stuff and maybe some photos of faraway places.

Saturday, 20 March 2010

White (& red) lunchbox


I didn't realise until I'd finished making Lily's lunchbox yesterday that it was basically all white. In a vague attempt to remedy the situation I added some grapes and tomatoes, but still, it was basically a white lunchbox...

Specifically it contained two corn thins with ABC spread (almond, brazil & cashew nut); an egg white (she hates the yellow part); half a pear; and those token tomatoes & grapes.

Friday, 19 March 2010

'Slug' noodle lunchbox


Yesterday morning Lily woke up and said, "I want tofu in my lunchbox today."
"OK," I replied.
"With broccoli and zucchini," she added.
"OK. Would you like rice or noodles with that?" I asked.
"Noodles. You know mama; noodles are like slugs," she said.
"I guess they are kind of like slugs. And broccoli is like trees, isn't it?" I replied.
"Yes. And zucchini is like fish."

Mmm...

Anyway, so I put udon noodles in her lunchbox with broccoli, zucchini, cauliflower and tofu; and I popped in some watermelon and rockmelon to round things out.

All up it was a very successful lunchbox. It came home completely empty, except for a little pile of tofu in the corner. The tofu I used was left over from our Vietnamese take-away the night before and I have to admit that it didn't look very appetising cold... Next time I'll put in some freshly cooked tofu from the fridge.

Thursday, 18 March 2010

The Book Thief by Markus Zusak


I have to admit that I was drawn to this novel solely because of the title. I love the idea of someone loving books so much that they would steal them. And, I should say upfront, that it delivered far beyond my expectations.

What I didn't realise was that this book is set in Nazi Germany during the Second World War and that it was sad. Really sad. I'm quite glad that I didn't know either of these things, because they would have put me off reading such a brilliant book. I'm really struggling these days with coping with sadness in books, and there really are so very many books and films about the holocaust, aren't there?

Of course, my ignorance didn't last very long. Within the first few paragraphs our narrator, death, is fairly explicit about the emotional roller coaster that we are about to board and the historical context in which it will take place. But, you see, by then I was hooked. That's how long it took: one paragraph, maybe two.

The book is the story of a young German girl, Liesel (or "the Book Thief"), who is traveling by train to Munich with her mother when she watches her younger brother die. This is when Death first encounters her and hangs around long enough to watch her steal her first book, The Gravedigger's Handbook, from the cemetery where they bury her brother.

Liesel continues on to Munich where she is left with a new foster family, the kindly Hans Hubermann, who plays the accordion and occasionally paints houses, and tough-as-nails Rosa Hubermann, who calls her Saumensch or pig (which we will come to understand is a term of endearment). She begins school at the age of 10, unable to read, meets her neighbour, soon-to-be-bestfriend, Rudy Steiner, and plays football in the street. Every night she wakes up screaming after dreaming about her brother's death and Hans is there to comfort her and, soon enough, to teach her to read.

Things take a darker turn when the family takes in Max Vandenburg, a young Jewish man, and hide him in their basement. The tension created by that courageous act is then increased as bombs begin to fall on Munich.

Despite the grim subject matter, this is such a beautiful story. At its heart it is the story of a young girl coming of age and learning the power of words and of love. Her relationships with Hans, Rudy, Max and even Rosa are so carefully developed and feel so utterly real that it is impossible to distance yourself from emotional vulnerability that is part and parcel of such strong friendships.

As for the sadness, well I'm not giving anything away when I say that I cried myself to sleep after finishing this book. Our kindly narrator essentially gives it all away in the first few pages. But that is what makes this book so wonderful. It is not held together with the suspense of wondering what is going to happen, it is held together with the story of why we should care.

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