Tonight I attended a panel discussion in which I could not get the space to phrase some simple questions. This is not to say that I feel the space was not allowed me, nor anyone else, but that there were, at all the wrong moments (for my little question(s)), many other people wishing to share commentary. And so it was that I was not able to ask my questions of the esteemed panel comprised of Phyllis Jackson, Judith Halberstam, Yong Soon Min, Amelia Jones, and Jennifer Doyle. While my questions remain, I now have- at least- the ability to better articulate the ruminatory peregrinations that my mind made during the volleyed commentary between panelists and audience members alike.

My primary question is: How can we (who label ourselves feminists, or more particularly, radical feminists) show everyone else that feminism is The Answer? I know, I know: the last two words of that last sentence will turn off many critical, educated postmodern theorists simply by implying a unified anything. I posit that we can sidestep that problem by allowing the radical, liberatory definition of feminism that I have learned from studying bell hooks which is, simply, that feminism is for Everybody (for the whole, unified entirety of humanity- Everybody!!) The definition of feminism in this case implies that it is a universal solution to a universal problem: oppression (which we may also call patriarchy). Liberation from oppression: feminism crumbling the walls of patriarchy. How do we show all of society that the feminist rejection of hierarchy and oppression, whether it be on the basis of race, sex, class, nationality, sexuality, physical ability, etc., is to everyone’s benefit? How do we show that even those amongst us who appear the most privileged have the benefit of a healthier society and a greater ability to express their true selves in a feminist context?

Professor Doyle referred to writing by Audre Lorde in which she exhorts those that are meeting, perhaps policy-making, to look around at each other and note who is missing. In any organization, who is missing that will clearly not be representing themselves? Who must we represent in our conversations? Professor Jackson made a great point: younger feminists were missing from the panel. I would add that older feminists (older than 60) were also missing from the panel. The question I really wanted to raise was . . . where were the men? This is, of course, tied to my conclusion that (obviously) mainstream society is not aware that feminism is for everybody, but more importantly: why didn’t anyone bring up the lack of 1) male-created feminist art in the WACK! exhibit and 2) the possible damage that may be done to feminism when it is represented in such a public way as simplistically “for, by, and about women” and 3) the panel’s lack of male members.

This concerns me because I work with young people, aged 12-18 years old. I teach them in the classroom, but I also work with them in an activist context, as the faculty advisor to the campus gay-straight alliance. Our GSA has explored the liberatory benefits to all people when we educate the campus on Transgender Day of Remembrance, National Coming Out Day, etc. The GSA members know that anti-racist work is directly tied to anti-homophobic work and anti-sexist work. We’re still working on class issues, but they are seeing the connections. I have used the word feminism once with the GSA students. When I did, the hint of snickers and sideways glances from some of the students indicated to me that for these children, feminism is the real “f” word. Feminism, to them, conjures what the anti-feminist backlash has intended for it to conjure: angry, white, queer women yelling about outdated concerns. I’m quite sure that this is as far as the young people who have not been radicalized into really learning about feminism go. They have not learned that feminism is an academic lens that deconstructs oppression of all sorts. They have not learned that, in the process of making women and men equal, all sexes benefit and that this equality-producing-universal-benefit is true in terms of all other (apparent) binaries (race, class, etc.) With my young students, I avoid using the word “feminism” just as I avoid using the word “anarchism.” The media messages regarding these terms are too strongly negative for me to approach them directly. Therefore, I have been challenged to articulate around the terms . . . which, in fact, is a very effective way to teach lasting knowledge.

These young people can make the intellectual leap from anti-homophobic work to anti-racist work. My impression is that they are not able to make the intellectual leap from feminism as the outdated and angry to feminism as the utterly relevant and inclusive. Professor Halberstam raised the question of the pieces in the exhibit that represent the female body in a selfless way- as object. She described them as disarming, as unexpectedly political. [I was not taking notes: this is me paraphrasing what she said (corrections welcome!)] She pointed out that these pieces used a patriarchal expectation of women as the medium for feminist expression. This was intriguing as Professor Halberstam described the pieces, but also intriguing to me because this is not how feminism is represented in mainstream media, which is where my students have learned anything they may know about feminism. What my students have learned is the image of reactionary feminism. Feminism that has had ENOUGH! of patriarchal, sexist bullshit and is ready to say something about it. What Professor Halberstam described were pieces that could be described as a kind of evocative feminism . . . by hooking a crochet needle (if you will) through one part sympathy and one part fury and one part identification and one part sadness, a feminist might be made. This is not the feminism we see in mainstream media.

In fact, this is not the kind of activism we ever see in the media, because it’s not the form that activism most often takes. For every anti-war or anti-Bush demonstration I go to, I have the choice of myriad contingents to join. All but one of them intend to hold many signs and to be vocal. The one group that I have never (yet) chosen to join is the Buddhist Peace Fellowship. While I am affiliated with the group, I have not walked with the group in silence at a large demonstration nor sat in quiet meditation off to one side. When making this decision, the question I always ask myself is: how long can I be angry? Is this the time to reject reaction and to NOT just do something, but to sit there? Until now, I’ve decided that my daily life is the peaceful activism of intentional community and cultivated compassion and that the demonstrations are the time to speak up and protest loudly against the white supremacist capitalist [imperialist] patriarchy that is literally in the way of every beautiful possibility on the planet. To be sure, there are ways to subvert that power structure (what I do when I find a place of compassion inside myself or when my community consenses on a decision after much discussion.) However, these subversions are lost in the onslaught of media images of gyrating hipsters listening to their iPods in a false reality of materialistic bliss. What I am protesting is that denial of a voice for our subversive collectives in an age when product consumption is identity and representation is reserved for the highest bidder. At the same time, I am living one alternative and sometimes documenting such.

This may be where the schizophrenic requirement to be at the center and also in the margins, as a few people mentioned during the panel / audience discussion, arises: a movement requires visibility and representation, but is at the same time so much more than what most people will ever see and could ever try to represent. Perhaps this is where our imperative, those who would call ourselves feminists, arises. We must represent ourselves. I consider myself a radical feminist, and my questions may serve to represent not only me, but perhaps other radical feminists: Where were the men tonight on the panel, and how can we get a widespread embrace of feminism as a present solution rather than as a historic event?

san francisco.

fabulous in so many ways. frolick into muni station, stop and realize that exact change is needed. dollar fifty. seek out change machine, change the twenty into fives and the five into dollar coins. lucky for us, we already got the quarters.

head for the turnstile, sign reads “PASS ONLY.” hmm . . . maybe i’ll just try to put my coins in the coin slot . . . but it’s blocked by a piece of metal.

man bypasses turnstile and opens the wheelchair door to go downstairs and catch the train. we follow, and, at the door, see that there are two muni officers downstairs. we can ask them how we’re supposed to pay. as we’re coming down the stairs, coins in hand, one officer yells up to us,

“do you have your tickets?”

“actually, we were just coming down here to ask you how to pay, because the turnstiles weren’t accepting money.”

“oh- you came down here to ask us?”

“yes.”

“and how did you know that we were down here?”

“we could see you from up there. the guy before us came through the handicapped door, and when i walked over there, i saw that you were down here.”

“how long have you lived in san francisco?”

“we don’t. we’re visiting from LA.”

“can i see your ID cards?”

“okay.”

“are you in the process of moving here?”

“no- we’re here for the marathon.”

“did you look for an attendant when you couldn’t pay your fare?”

“yes- there wasn’t one.”

“oh? and how did you know that there wasn’t one?”

“there was no one in the kiosk.”

“so you looked in the kiosk?”

“yes.”

“and you didn’t see the sign?”

“what sign? there were many signs. we were looking for a person to ask how to pay our fare.”

leading us upstairs,

“well, you’ve entered a ticket-only zone. it’s up to $500 dollar fine for entering this zone without a ticket.”

pointing to rather large, but otherwise surrounded my many other visual distractions, sign,

“if you had looked in the kiosk for an attendant, you would have seen this sign.”

the sign reads, “NO ATTENDANT pay fare at other end of station.”

silence.

“so i’m going to have to give you a citation. hello, supervisor.” as another person in uniform walks by.

anger seething out of my pores, disempowermentoverwhelmingadrenalinerushingfistclenchingicouldtearyour fuckingheadoff,youslimyexcuseforahumanbeingusingmeasawaytomakeyourself feellikeyouhavesomekindofpower,whenallitisisapowertripbyabutchdykewoman inaworldthatcan’tacceptyousoyou’regoingtofuckthewomanyoucouldneverlayin whateverwayyoucanandoh, you’regoingtohaveyourwaytoday,aren’tyou? becauseyou’vegottheuniformthatididn’tgiveyou. someonetoldyouyouhadsomeauthorityandnowyou’reusingitlikethegoodcopyouare. whensomeonecomestoyouforhelp,yougive’emanicestrongfuckintheassbecause

youisacopandiisnothingand

i’d

better

learn

to

take

it.

right?becausethere’snothingelsetodointhisunderground,tiledhell.

“is this your address?”

“no. it’s my parents’ address.”

“do you want to give me your address?”

“i don’t have an address.”

“i need an address where you can be reached.”

“do you want my work address, ma’am?”

“sure. whatever address.”

people start walking up to the turnstiles. some have passes, know what they’re doing. others, like us, look perplexed.

“look out! this is a trap!”

second officer shushes me. i continue.

“if you have coins, you’ll have to go to the other end of the station, like this not very obvious sign says,” pointing to the sign.

people walk in the right direction, thanking me. back to the officer, i slowly state my work address, measured enunciation that you could slit a throat with.

“okay, i’ll need you to sign here.”

“i’m not signing that. why would i sign that?”

“if you don’t sign it, you’ll be arrested. this is a nontraffic violation. it won’t appear on your driving record. the top part shows your information, the bottom part describes the violation, this is my name and star number,”

i take the pen, write my initials across the entire bottom half of the sheet,

“i’m really impressed with how well you filled out the sheet.”

as she tears the sheet off her pad, handing it to me,

“when i go in to the station tonight, i’m going to make note of your poor attitude,”

“and i’ll make a note of yours.”

“your three options are to not appear in court or pay a fine, and a felony warrant for your arrest will be issued, or pay the fine,”

“do you still have my ID card?”

“yes,” finding it and handing it to me.

“or contest the charge.”

i’m already walking away. disgusted. fuming.

my friend A.B. finally walks over, after the officer refuses to tell her what our options are, as i clearly wasn’t listening.

we’re walking up the stairs out of the muni station, walking now that i’m too enraged to consider going and paying a fare after such treatment, enraged that my afternoon has been thoroughly ruined, and i scream

likeafuckingbansheealltheragepoursoutofmylungsechosinstairwellscaresoffother passengersfromtrainundergroundtobusaboveground,myfuriousvoicegrowls atthismonsterthathoversoverme.

second citation in two months. the police state is out of control. just when i think i couldn’t be any more radical, a situation comes along and i think, “well- i’ll be damned. we’re more fucked than i had imagined!”

by the time we’ve walked halfway to friend M.G.’s house, my body feels limp. a simple jaunt to the waterfront and back turned into an exhausting lesson to never: NEVER trust cops. avoid them at all costs.

how does one exist in the city and avoid the cops?

the lyrics from “cop killa” come into my head because i just heard them two weeks ago when i saw “beyond beats and rhymes: a hip-hop head weighs in on manhood in hip-hop culture,” which was well-done and thought-provoking. and, as usual, i realized that it’s all connected. the power-trip grasping after manhood of the cops that have given me citations is in response to their own sense of inadequacy (because, really, why else do people become cops?) this posturing and claiming of power make those that are oppressed- me, lately, and african-american youth, usually- hold onto OUR “manhood” all the more tightly.

it’s a vicious cycle and, like war, there will be no “winner.”

just losers, all around.

that’s what a fascist police-state (few will deny it, at this point) makes us all.

i’m reminded now of the tactical ice-cream unit, straight outta SF. yes. i think that is all i have to say about that. even in these times that try my soul, i can still count on signs of irreverant disregard for authority to warm the cockles of my heart.

masculinist claiming

of public space

white cum-paint

splatters across the se-ment

text dominates

text imposed

your words

your reaction

disconnected from others’ experiences

and understanding

it’s all for you

your text

your territory

are marked

imposing

penetrating

impenetrable

So yesterday I met Peggy McIntosh . . . and in her presence I felt as though I was in the presence of the aging Emma Goldman herself, with her greyed hair pulled back in a loose bun and her loose-fitting, business-casual attire and spectacles and not a speck of the make-up or posturing that is so rampant in Los Angeles. She came to us from Massachusetts, where perhaps intellectual pursuits are encouraged.

I was so honored to meet her because I read some of her White Privilege work last year, as part of our faculty reading group, and she's . . . right. I've also seen Tim Wise speak twice, and he's also right, but she was his inspiration. She gave him the ammunition-in the form of acknowledging white privilege- and the target- in the form of all of the white folk who can't or won't see the fact that, in order for people that are "underprivileged" to exist, there must be some group of people, in comparison to them, that are "overprivileged" and that that group is white people.

Of course, there are many binaries in the over-versus-under privileged world, but skin color is the one which Wise speaks about. As for McIntosh, she addresses many of the privilege dichotomies that exist, including queerness. I was able to meet her because the Gay-Straight Alliance that I advise was invited to speak with her, and I was very glad to hear her excitement about our group.

I was glad because, from all that I can see, everything (literally) comes back to gender. And the queer space and the feminist space seem to be the most effective realms for deconstructing (or fucking, if you will) gender.

Gender is that quintessential, polar example of submissive vs. dominant that gets repeated in every inequitable relationship on the planet. And I believe in equality. Anti-racists believe in equality. Feminists believe in equality. Anti-capitalists believe in equality. The founders of the United States claimed some kind of belief in equality.

Yet you can't have equality when every human is raised from birth to either act in a dominant way or act in a submissive way. These gendered humans act out their pain and their rage caused by having their dynamic, free beings squeezed into some narrow description of what is feminine and what is masculine by perpetuating their pain in their relationships with people of different classes and different abilities and different physiologies and different nationalities and different belief systems and different skin colors and different attractions . . . and also in their relationships to the planet and its other creatures. In order to deconstruct the white supremacist capitalist patriarchy that encompasses all of the "isms" of oppression, such as racism and sexism, we must first deconstruct gender. This gender deconstruction should be the primary goal of feminism. For some feminists, it is.

McIntosh's work in pedagogical theory relating to the creation of classrooms that take the privilege out of the material being studied and that place privilege in the hands of the students- who not only see reflections of themselves in the curriculum, but are given the space to make their lives part of the curriculum- reminded me of a book I once read called Teaching to Transgress: Education as the Practice of Freedom by bell hooks. It said exactly that. Maybe hooks was influenced by McIntosh, like Wise was. Or maybe McIntosh by hooks. In any case, just today I read a brief by Senator Sheila Kuehl to the LA Times discussing her recent bill to the CA legislature asking for the inclusion of LGBTQ people in anti-discrimination in school curriculum laws and for efforts to increase visibility of LGBTQ contributions in the curriculum.

It's the same message, from McIntosh, hooks, Kuehl . . . And it's true. Our experience is our reality. What good is education, if we have no point of entry? What good is education, if it only serves to disenfranchise? Just today, amidst all of this, I was teaching about star evolution and I was talking about the Orion constellation. I took a side trip in my teaching to explain that the constellation names we use in this country come from the Romans and Greeks, but that every civilization had its own astronomy and its own stories for why the stars are in the patterns that they are in. A student then asked if there were any "American" names that we use for constellations and I thought for a moment and said, "well, the big dipper is 'American,' because that constellation was actually called Ursa Major by the Romans." And he pressed, "Wasn't it named the big dipper by the slaves?" and I said "I don't know!"

Well, I looked it up, and the student was right. I'm glad to be able to report back to this student and the class tomorrow that, indeed, he (who happens to be African-American) was right and, yes, people that look like him DID contribute to our knowledge of the heavens. How many times a day do I, alone, miss opportunities to engage and affirm my students?

This process of stripping away the privilege in the curriculum is as much a way of subverting gender as crossing gender lines is a way of subverting white privilege. Kate Bornstein writes about how being straight, male, white, rich, etc. is the pinnacle of being gendered. She refers to the privilege gradients between people of differing skin colors as aspects of gender, as well as all of the other privilege gradients that can and do exist.

"The Man" is most surely straight, rich, white, male, able-bodied, masculine, and conventionally attractive. But only one person will ever be "The Man," and that person isn't me and he isn't you. So we're all out in the world with "clouds of inferiority forming," trying to demonstrate how we're ALMOST "The Man," or at least a closer resemblance to him than the person next to us.

This is how patriarchy functions to keep us insecure, to keep us tearing each other down, and to keep us in the damning business of perpetuating privilege binaries. There will always be something to grasp after. The grasping only leads to suffering.

However, it's not enough to reject one's own gender assignment and just BE as one feels most comfortable being. The dominant paradigm and the media are still heavily gendered, damaging most people's abilities to truly be free. The hierarchies that patriarchy supports are not only antithetical to the anarchistic world view, but cage individuals, on a personal level, in a state of imprisonment with significant expectations regarding behavior and lifestyle. We need to actively and publicly question gender, gender assumptions, gendered behavior, and gender expectations.

When I read Emma Goldman, the gendered nature of her assumptions and propositions sadden me. Even though she was radical and revolutionary for her time (and ours,) a cross-gendered consciousness could have taken her to even greater levels of freedom. Instead, she suffered in her grasping after the feminine role, assigning it and sexuality to utmost (essentialist) import.

And so it is with great excitement that I met Peggy McIntosh, a modern-day Emma, with a racial and sexual and gender consciousness that form a state of true liberation. I honor her and her work in schools, where we obtain our first understandings of power and privilege systems. May the universe allow that our paths cross again.