A poem for critique and consideration

Secrets of Womanhood

To lay bare - 

a breast to a lover

bones to another.

 

To bear –

witness. Turn faith into Truth.

the Burden of humanity

 

Weighing in

Under the labor of eroticized curves.

 

Sole responsibility of the one.

The Other.

The sexed.

 

Notes: This poem first came about when I began thinking about secrets in the context of love, the self, interpersonal relationships, community, and humanity. We even have a cultural obsession with secrets – the catch 22 of human nature.  Simultaneously, anxious over the uncertainty of the future, the drive to know the Truth; yet, ignorance is bliss and oftentimes we are better left not knowing everything.  I started thinking about all the ways you could classify types of secrets. There are secrets of knowledge, imbued with power (both interpersonal relationships and social hierarchies. Very Foulcaldian, if you will).  There are secrets within our selves – the darker side of our selves, aspects of our own human nature that we often cannot bear to face. Secrets exist within relationships, which sometimes we keep based on fear of what the other will think about us or how they will judge us or sometimes because we love them and are afraid of hurting them.  This led me to consider the opposite of secrets – what would describe that? To be completely open to another person, to our selves, and to the social self we present to others.  Would this simplify or complicate our understanding of the world, of each other, and of our selves as individuals? This is when the first stanza appeared in my thoughts.

 

The remainder of the poem was influenced by my studies in gender and the reading I have been doing for my comprehensive exams. I’ve always been fascinated by the statement that women are the bearers of tradition and are socially responsible for preserving culture, especially during times of social change. This is why in developing countries, (or for lack of better term, “modernizing” countries) oftentimes, women are controlled, particularly as traditional notions of womanhood are symbolically tied up with the control of women’s’ bodies (valuing motherhood, disdain for a woman’s sexuality. etc.).  I understand now why this statement is so true. Women bear the primary responsibility for socializing children into the culture. Particularly in traditional patriarchal societies – women teach and embody the social norms and cultural values. Men record them. (The majority of my understanding this has come from reading psychoanalytic feminist theory and postmodern feminist theory).

 

Then I began thinking about faith and the Christian tradition in Western culture. How this tradition still carries of lot of cultural weight, even in our modernized, secularized (or not so secularized) world.  I began contemplating the (I’m assuming, much discussed) notion of original sin – the fact that a woman was the one that sought knowledge and that the origin of sin can be traced to the origin of woman (and therefore, feminity). That knowledge is equated with sin and seeking knowledge (i.e. eating of the apple in the Garden of Eden) results in punishment and has serious consequences.

 

Lastly, I find this whole process, even though it resulted in a sleepless night, to be important to my graduate studies. In the spirit of bell hooks, creativity and critical thinking oftentimes constitute a false dichotomy. Especially in the process of writing, you cannot separate the two. To do so, imbues a sense of power and privileging one form over another.

 

One last note: I am not completely satisfied with the title as it seems a little trite or corny to me. I have alternate options – like “To live life like a Woman” “The experience of a woman” But these too aren’t quite right. Perhaps the title will still need some work. 

A Source of Inspiration

Thank you, bell hooks.  For all that you have written about the pain and joy of writing. About the healing and transformative power inherent in the process of writing.  And, most importantly, for giving your readers such an honest account of your life experiences.  I first read your work, Feminist Theory: From Margin to Center, my second semester of graduate school.  I was 23 then and really still quite naive.  However, I’ve always remembered that book because it really did change my understanding of what it means to be a feminist.  Several years have passed since then, but I recently discovered your other work. Wounds of Passion, Remembered Rapture, and All About Love.  Although a bit more worldly now at 28, I still have a lot of maturing and growing to do (In fact, I would certainly hope so, as personal growth is a lifelong process).  Your books have helped me along in this process of spiritual and emotional development.  

I digress though. Last night, I read the essay, “Women Who Write too Much,” among many others in your book Remembered Rapture.  The first paragraph superbly expresses the reasons why we choose to write.  I have included this paragraph below so that others may be inspired to seek out and read your experiences with writing and with life in general.

There are writers who write for fame.  And there are writers who write because we need to make sense of the world we live in; writing is a way to clarify, to interpret, to reinvent.  We may want our work to be recognized, but that is not the reason we write.  We do not write because we must; we always have choice.  We write because language is the way we keep a hold on life. With words we experience our deepest understandings of what it means to be intimate.  We communicate to connect, to know community.  Even though writing is a solitary act, when I sit with words that I trust will be read by someone, I know that I can never be truly alone.  There is always someone who waits for words, eager to embrace them and hold them close.

Hegelian Hipsters: Part II

This is in follow up to a previous post about an article in Adbusters magazine.

 In this article, cultural critics are quick to point out hipster homogeneity.  A valid, yet over-stated criticism, in my opinion.  Over the past few years I’ve shared similar notions regarding the “dazed and confused” youth of the 21st century.  However, what fascinates me is the authenticity of hipster culture.  The spread of hipsterdom, almost global in reach I might add, epitomizes the shallowness inherent in capitalist culture.  It’s a social movement based solely not on a fight for fair labor practices or a living wage, but on “fashionably” embracing an idealized version of working class culture.

Marx would be so proud of his lil’ Hegelian hipsters

Disclaimer: This is actually in the comments section of the first Hegelian Hipsters post. However, I like the ideas and I like how it is written, so I’ve made it an entry in my blog as well.

Counting your blessings

When you encounter adverse situations in your life, how do you handle them? This is an important question that can tell you a lot about one’s character.  One thing I need to remember to do when life isn’t filled with roses, rainbows, and sunshine is to remind myself to be thankful and grateful for the good I have and will continue to experience. Below I’m going to list 10 things in my life that invoke a sense of gratitude. Let this inspire you to do the same so that you can continue to be strong in mind and spirit. 

1. My family and I are in relatively excellent health. 

2.  I have a healthy, loving German Shepherd, and three healthy, loving cats. 

3. I have a guaranteed roof over my head and furthermore, I have owned my house for three years.

4. I am working on finishing my Ph.D. I already have a M.A. (A privilege that some people, especially women, in other parts of the world can only dream about). 

5. I am allowed to freely speak and discuss, both with my friends and as a teacher, things political and controversial without fearing harmful consequences for myself and/or loved ones. 

6. I am not socially isolated and I have the opportunity to meet new interesting and exciting people everyday. 

7.  I have friends who have been a part of my life for over 20 years. 

8. I have people in my life who care about me and are willing to help me through difficult situations. 

9.  I have a job that I enjoy and that is allowing me to learn a new set of professional skills, yet be creative at the same time. 

10.  I do not have to experience the terror of war or any other imminent danger on a daily basis.

Hegelian Hipsters

Leave it to the culture jammers at Adbusters magazine to write about the hipsters role in capitalism and the end of western civilization.  LOVE IT!!

http://www.adbusters.org/magazine/79/hipster.html

The Language of Love

“If you say, I love you, then you have already fallen in love with language, which is already a form of break up and infidelity.” 

~ Jean Baudrillard

The NIMBY syndrome

 

Don't you just love the social commentary in the New Yorker cartoons?

Écriture

Simultaneously difficult, yet pleasurable – writing, that is – to flesh out in ink and, if willed right, to leave imprinted on paper, an eternal stamp of you. . . destination undisclosed. 

Ah, the ink soaked paper of eternity – confessions, blood red, and stained on the dead dregs of a time-nurtured tree.

 

Écriture féminine . . . 

Write your self. Your body must be heard.  Only then will the immense resources of the unconscious spring forth.  Our naptha will spread, throughout the world, without dollars -black or gold- non-assessed values that will change the rules of the old game. 

~ Helene Cixous, “The Laugh of the Medusa”

The Poeticness of Experience

I confess. I have an addiction. A constant craving, if you will. 

Okay, well maybe that is a bit overdramatized, but I grabbed your attention didn’t I? 

I’ve realized for sometime now that I thrive on poetic and artistic expression, of a number of different varieties, that touches upon the complexities of human life – the vulgar, the sentimental, the dark, and the hopeful. This can be in the form of a song, composed in just the right way to put you at ease or tug at your heart strings. Sometimes a film, with even just one beautifully shot scene can suffice (the scene in The Pianist, where he is walking down the street in the deserted Jewish ghetto, weeping while clothes and people’s things left behind are whirling around him, comes to mind right now). And sometimes, it can be as simple as a line in a novel that utilizes the poetics of language perfectly – powerful, yet subtle and unpretentious. 

I have another confession. I crave these things because I am unable to create myself. I feel it, deep down inside, almost like a gaping hole or a void, physically manifesting itself in a dull gut ache. But neither the expression or the medium is there. That’s why my constant search for new songs, new uses of language, and new perceptions of the colors and angles of familiar objects exists. It makes me feel life, in all its exhilaration and awe. 

What spurred this random thought? An article in a Harper’s magazine from 2005. While on the surface, it appears to be a bitter author, railing against the sellout attitude of Jonathon Franzen (author of The Corrections), it’s actually something much more worthwhile than this. It makes you question why you read. And yes, maybe even what you want out life. It asks, what’s your preferred method of being in touch with this thing called the human experience? 

And now to feed my (and yours – if you feel similarly) addiction for today, I’m ending with two quotes from Joyce’s Ulysses. 

My childhood bends beside me. Too far for me to lay a hand there once or lightly. MIne is far and his secret as our eyes. Secrets, silent, stoney, sit in the dark palaces of both our hearts: secrets weary of their tyranny: tyrants willing to be dethroned.

Touch me. Soft eyes. Soft soft soft hand. I am lonely here. O, touch me soon, now. What is that word known to all men? I am quiet here alone. Sad too. Touch, touch me.

 

Life, love and the pursuit of knowledge

Within the philosophical tradition, one asks the really big questions – what is the meaning of life? What are the ethics and morals that guide human life? What proof is there that a God does or does not exist? What is love? 

It is this last question that I’ve found myself pondering more than usual lately. Part of this has been spurred by my reading of Cortazar’s Hopscotch, a book that is extremely philosophical in nature, and if you are not careful, may induce an existential crisis (okay, okay, maybe that is a bit over-dramatic – let’s say at least an existential malaise).  The point being, I have found myself really thinking about love these days. Not necessarily love in the sense of obsessing over relationships – unfortunately, these two things are synonymous for many – or in the Western, romanticized sense (what I will call the “someday my prince will come” syndrome).  I’m referring to something beyond these things. As these are weighty questions, it takes some time to sort out one’s thoughts and answers. So, what I have considered so far, will have to be saved for another post. However, I would like to direct you to a wonderful quote from Hopscotch . . . 

 http://lisbis.wordpress.com/quotes/