Qualms with Teach for America
I have a billion grievances with TFA and most of them are expressed in this article very well.
#MUSTREAD:
http://www.laprogressive.com/teach-america/
Excerpt: “But the most objectionable aspect of Teach for America—other than its contempt for lifetime educators—is its willingness to create another pathway to wealth and power for those already privileged in the rapidly expanding educational-industrial complex, which already offers numerous careers for the ambitious and well-connected. An organization which began by promoting idealism and educational equity has become, to all too many of its recruits, a vehicle for profiting from the misery of America’s poor.”
Rock Bottom
“So why do I talk about the benefits of failure? Simply because failure meant a stripping away of the inessential. I stopped pretending to myself that I was anything other than what I was, and began to direct all my energy into finishing the only work that mattered to me. Had I really succeeded at anything else, I might never have found the determination to succeed in the one arena I believed I truly belonged. I was set free, because my greatest fear had been realized, and I was still alive, and I still had a daughter whom I adored, and I had an old typewriter and a big idea. And so rock bottom became the solid foundation on which I rebuilt my life”–J.K. Rowling
Rishta Sagas
One of my favorite bloggers, Mehreen Kasana, recently wrote a blog post called The Shadi Manifesto:
http://mehreenkasana.wordpress.com/2012/03/17/the-shaadi-manifesto/
Usually, my blogosphere is completely separated from my Facebook world, but suddenly, this blog post was being shared all over facebook with extremely interesting comments. Many Muslim-Pakistani women feel as though Mehreen is being extremely disrespectful to the institution of marriage and to her elders in the post. Some feel that she makes valid points but if she was to just tone down her language to one of respect, her points would reach a wider audience.
This got me thinking about the limitations our Pakistani-Muslim society has on their ability to understand where someone else is coming from and perhaps see the world from their eyes. I loved Mehreen’s post and I agreed with every single word written in her article. And I wanted to add my two cents to the shadi manifesto.
The process of going through rishtas is hard. I noticed that most people who sat on their high horse regarding the blog post were women who were already married and had arranged marriages. But ask a girl who is going through the rishta phase and she will tell you that it is terrifying, scary, unfair, infuriating, and heart breaking. I know older women expect us to be polite even when writing our own manifestos, but the thing is, 99% of the time, all I want to do is curse, scream, cry, and rage when it comes to rishtas.
It sucks!
It sucks when your parents say things like “kab tak hum tumhain upnay ghar bitha kar rakhein gay?” or “Mein to kehti hoon bus tumhari jaldi jaldi shadi ho aur tum apnay ghar jao” These are not general statements–these are specific quotations that my mother has said to me on multiple occasions and I am sure every girl in her 18-25 year rishta stage heard. The thing is, it freaking sucks when your own mother sits in front on you telling you that the house you live in is not your own and that you are a burden on your family. The pressure and the feeling of burden—-it’s not fair. Sometimes, I actually find myself wanting to apologize for the inconvenience!
In a society where “fair and lovely” skin and “patli kamar” are valued, it sucks to have your features ripped apart by random aunties–however well meaning they may be. Weight and skin color was not something I ever thought of, but sometimes, I’ll be sitting minding my own business, and random auntie will chime in “tumhay pata hai maray paas daanon ke liye aik nuksa hai….main batati hoon..pen lao aur likho” and it’s like “errrrrr?” I know they mean well when they bring up my acne scars, but it’s rough when you wake up in the morning and say shukar because your face looks decent, but then people you just meet think it’s okay to comment on the scars on your face.
Rishtas themselves freaking suck. It sucks when your picture is sent to a random guy and family you have never met and they reject you. It’s a ginormous blow to your ego. Call me vain or petty, but it’s not fun being rejected, even from a faceless stranger. It sucks when your parents get their heart set on a rishta you hate and you spend weeks kicking and screaming and crying and pleading with them not to say yes. It sucks when a rishta comes that you know in your heart isn’t right for you but you don’t know the consequence of saying no. The self-doubt, the fear—it stinks butt. Having to weigh strangers based on their accomplishments or looks and then rejecting them for one of the other and feeling like a horrendous person in the process—that sucks!
I understand that most Muslim-Pakistani women will go through this phase and will just have to deal. But it baffles me when older women who have been through this process refuse to lend us sympathy. I know that arranged marriages work out and you are in a great place with an amazing family, but you were once where I am now. You were experiencing the pressure, the doubt, the anger too! Just admit that the process sucks so we can vent about it together. Tell me it’s going to be okay and when I lease expect it, “the one” will propose and everything will fall magically into place and life will work out. Or give me the magical formula that you used which told you which basket to lay your eggs in.
Having people come “dekhofy” you is awkward. Having your parents set their heart on a family you now have to try and impress is shitty. Feeling hopeless because none of the rishtas are what you’re looking for stinks. The pressure that comes from parents, aunts, uncles, cousins, friends, society, aunties blows. But we’re a community that keeps all that hidden. We don’t talk about the rishtas we get openly. The only time we do is when one gets pakkofied. We don’t give advice to girls younger than us who are now going through what we hated. We aren’t there telling them that the glorified image of coming into your drawing room with a dupatta on your head and tea in your hands is bullshit. That in real life, this crap is too messy, there are too many emotions, egos, expectations, and politics involved. We aren’t telling them what to look for. We end conversations at “parents know best” but we’re not saying “it’s okay if he doesn’t have xyz as long as he’s respectful/patient/kind/funny/smart.”
I wish there was a rishta support group out there. But there isn’t. But it just sucks that when such a brilliant Shadi manifesto is written that speaks to all the problems in our society, all we do is bash it instead of acknowledging that rishtas are tough as all hell on girls.
My parents, cousins, or aunts never ever talked to me about my marriage. Never. It wasn’t a topic we discussed. It wasn’t something we ever talked about. And then suddenly, one day, completely out of no where it seemed like, I was shoved into this alien world. I don’t know the rules, I don’t know the game, I don’t know what I’m looking for, what’s right, what’s wrong….nothing. But yet society expects me to be completely patient, and kind, and listen to my parents because they know best. And I’m expected to believe that rishta aunties are going to find me my life partner and that everyone around me is going to make the most important choice of my life for me and it’s going to turn out fine. And in the process, no one is willing to listen to my frustrations, anxieties, concerns, fears, hopes, and dreams.
I’m told “don’t have any expectations. If you don’t have any, then they can’t be broken.”
Well, that’s kind of a fucked up idea to base your life on.
Let’s talk about justice
Let’s talk about an injustice: The opposite of poverty isn’t wealth—it’s justice.
Watch this video–it’ll leave you speechless:
http://www.ted.com/talks/bryan_stevenson_we_need_to_talk_about_an_injustice.html
YOU DON’T HAVE MY VOTE #KONY2012
Note: This post is taken entirely from “innovateafrica.tumblr.com”
Disclaimer: I don’t usually ever copy and paste entire posts into my blog, but this one is a must read. I feel strongly about my issues with KONY2012 campaign, and I hope reading this will help some of you understand the issues with the campaign better. Remember, even if you feel passionately in favor of the campaign, conversations are important and perspectives are essential. So please read on:
You must have heard of the viral video created by Invisible Children (IC), a U.S. organization that has launched a one-year campaign (expires December 31, 2012) to eliminate Joseph Kony, the head of the Lord’s Resistance Army (LRA), a rebel group in Northern Uganda that has been embroiled in civil conflict with the Ugandan government for 25+ years. The LRA has admittedly used atrocious tactics such as abductions to engage children in conflict, using boys as soldiers and girls as sex slaves. Needless to say, Kony and LRA must go. That’s where my agreement begins and ends with Invisible Children’s work. I appreciate the organization’s commitment to the issue and can see its good intent, but I strongly question the group’s approach, strategy, and work. Below are some of the reasons why.
Lack of context and nuance: in the video, the founder of Invisible Children tells his young son that Kony is a bad guy and he must go. Daddy will work on making sure he is caught. He states, “if we succeed, we change the course of human history.” Such a humble undertaking! Simply, a long socioeconomic and political conflict that has lasted 25+ years and engaged multiple states and actors has been reduced to a story of the good vs bad guy. And if a three-year-old can understand it, so can you. You don’t have to learn anything about the children, Uganda, or Africa. You just have to make calls, put up flyers, sings songs, and you will liberate a poor, forgotten, and invisible people.
This approach obviously denies realities on the ground, inflates fantasies abroad, and strips Ugandans of their agency, dignity and humanity- the complexity of their story and history. The work, consequence, and impact are all focused on Uganda, but the agency, accountability, and resources lie among young American students. Clearly a dangerous imbalance of power and influence; one that can have adverse lasting effects on how and what people know of Uganda. It reduces the story of Northern Uganda, and perhaps even all of Uganda, into the dreaded single narrative of need and war, followed by western resolve and rescue. As we have seen from the past, without nuance and context, these stories stick in the collective memory of everyday people for years in their simplest forms: Uganda becomes wretched war. Whatever good IC may advance in raising more awareness on the issue or even contributing to the capture of Joseph Kony, it can never do enough to erase this unintended (I hope) impact.
Invisible to whom: these children have been very visible to their communities for years. After all, they’re somebody’s child, brother, sister, friend, niece, nephew, or neighbor. They’ve been visible to the shopkeepers and vendors in town who protected them. They’ve been visible to the family members who lost them and the community that cared for them. It’s because they’re so visible that Concerned Parents Association opened its doors in the 1990’s, after LRA abducted about 200 girls from a secondary school dormitory, to advocate for and bring to international light their plight. It’s because they’re visible that young people, including returnees from abductions, started Concerned Children and Youth Association. They’re visible to the people that matter, but apparently not to IC. The language we use in social change often denotes the approach we take, even if subconsciously. Since the children appear to be invisible to IC, then perhaps it’s clear why they’re represented as voiceless, dependent, and dis-empowered.
The dis-empowering and reductive narrative: the Invisible Children narrative on Uganda is one that paints the people as victims, lacking agency, voice, will, or power. It calls upon an external cadre of American students to liberate them by removing the bad guy who is causing their suffering. Well, this is a misrepresentation of the reality on the ground. Fortunately, there are plenty of examples of child and youth advocates who have been fighting to address the very issues at the heart of IC’s work. Want evidence? In addition to the organizations I list above, also look at Art for Children, Friends of Orphans, andChildren Chance International. It doesn’t quiet match the victim narrative, does it? I understand that IC is a US-based organization working to change US policy. But, it doesn’t absolve it from the responsibility of telling a more complete story, one that shows the challenges and trials along side the strength, resilience, and transformational work of affected communities.
Revival of the White savior: if you have watched the Invisible Children video and followed the organization’s work in the past, you will note a certain messianic/savior undertone to it all. “I will do anything I can to stop him,” declares the founder in the video. It’s quite individualistic and reeks of the dated colonial views of Africa and Africans as helpless beings who need to be saved and civilized. Where in that video do you see the agency of Ugandans? Where in that Video do you see Jacob open his eyes wide at the mere possibility of his own strength, as Jennifer Lentfer of How Matters describes here? Can we point out the problem with having one child speak on the desires, dreams, and hopes of a whole nation? I don’t even want to mention the paternalistic tone with which Jacob and Uganda (when did it become part of central Africa by the way?) are described, not excluding the condescending use of subtitles for someone who is clearly speaking English.
How many times in history do we have to see this model to know that it doesn’t work? Even if IC succeeds in bringing about short-term change (i.e. increased awareness or even the killing of Kony) it won’t eliminate Northern Uganda’s problems overnight. It won’t heal and sustain communities. In this era of protest and the protester, we have seen that change is best achieved when it comes from within. Let Ugandans champion their own, IC!
Privilege of giving: that was quiet a 30-minute production? Where did they get the resources? How do they have that reach? Well, in the nonprofit world, the one thing that we have to learn, especially as Africans, is that privilege begets privilege. The IC video is another reminder of the ways in which privilege infiltrates the social justice world and determines the voices and organizations that are heard; simply those that can afford to be heard. There are several local organizations that could offer a nuanced and contextualized perspective on and solutions to the Northern Uganda conflict. They don’t have IC’s reach. They simple weren’t born into the world of financial, racial, social, and geopolitical privilege IC members are.
Lack of Africans in leadership: Invisible Children’s US staff is comprised exclusively of Americans, as is the entire Board. How do you represent Uganda and not have Ugandans in leadership? Couldn’t the organization find a single Ugandan? An African? Did it even think about that? Does that matter to current staff and board members? I understand that IC’s main audience is American and its focus is on American action. However, when your work and consequence affect a different group of people than your target audience, you must make it a priority to engage the voices of the affected population in a real and meaningful way, in places and spaces where programs are designed, strategies dissected, and decisions are made.
Clearly, I think people should work across borders to address global issues. Obviously, there is a role for Americans in this issue. The problem here is the lack of balance on who speaks for Uganda (and Africa) and how. We need approaches that are strategic and respectful of the local reality, that build on the action and desires of local activists and organizers, and act as partners and allies, not owners and drivers. When it comes to Africa, we have seen the IC approach play out time and time again, whether it was Ethiopia in the 1980s, Somalia in the early 2000s to date, Darfur in 2004, or now. History is on our side and it shows that these types of approaches often fail. At some point, we have to say enough is enough. Africans, raise your voice! Now and into the future.
For more on the IC campaign, please read:
http://www.crisisgroup.org/en/regions/africa/horn-of-africa/uganda.aspx
http://ericswanderings.wordpress.com/2012/03/06/invisible-children-and-joseph-kony/
Kony 2012…or Racism 2012
The following video has started taking the internet by a storm:
Every one is appalled, everyone is infuriated, and oh, of course we want to help these poor defenseless children and lock this “bad man” away.
And I am all for it. I am all for the horrors that these children face being household knowledge. I’m all for the burning desires that we feel after watching this video to do something. The fact that the internet users seem to be connecting with the message strongly enough to spread it on social media websites is extraordinary! But I think, in our excitement, it is also important to see that this video isn’t told from the point of view of anyone that matters to the story.
On the contrary, the video screams of white privilege/white man’s burden.
It is extremely reminiscent of the typical story line: White man goes to Africa. White man is horrified at what he sees. White man comes to the super power country he belongs to and urges other White people to help the poor people in Africa who obviously can’t help themselves. And yaaaayyyy, Africa is saved!
In the process, the stories we really need to hear are silenced! While the filmmaker’s son Gavin is absolutely adorable, he has no point in the story (except of course, in the end when he tells his dad “I’m gonna be like you dad! I’m gonna come with you to Africa!” thereby ensuring that the cycle of White-man-saves-Africa” continues). What is more important to the story are the needs and wants of the parents who lost their children, of the peacekeepers and law enforcements and government officials of the areas in question. Gavin represents innocence, cuteness, and all that jazz, but so what? Him calling Kony the “bad guy” in his cute voice with his dimples showing does not tell me, the viewer, what the actual people need.
We hear snippets from politicians in Uganda about how Kony needs to be captured and then towards the end, we see children jumping into the arms of their parents while the over-voice says that we, the viewers, can help re-unite these children with their parents.
Which is absolute crap! If we believe the movie’s statistics and note that approximately 30,000 children have become victim to Kony and have served as child soldiers and become victims of sexual violence and assault, are we insane to think that all it will take is for this bad man to be captured for life to be peachy again? Do we truly realize the magnitude of the trauma these children have faced? Do we realize that the fact that they are child soldiers means that they have been given weapons, forced to fire and kill, and trained to use all methods of war including rape. Yes, did you know that child soldiers are trained to rape women in front of their families. Did you? How do you expect these children to recover from this and jump back into their parent’s arms? Who is going to help them do that?
What we get from the video is the filmmaker explaining to Gavin the ways of the world in overly simplified ‘bad guys’ ‘good guys’ manner, which is a great thing to do in private with your child. But what about the viewers who are sharing this video? Are we getting anything more than the simple version of the story?
We are so impressed that Jacob, a child in Uganda, knows English! (imagine that!) The filmmaker asks Jacob “You go to school here. That’s why you know English so well?” forgetting that English actually happens to be one of the official languages of Uganda. Then, we go on to tell him that we can not believe that the atrocities have been happening for years because “If that happened one night in America, it would be on the cover of Newsweek.”
Wells thanks big guy….but actually, sexual slavery, exploitation, trafficking of children, violence against children aren’t foreign concepts in America and yet we don’t see them on the cover of Newsweek, do we? There isn’t any need to show Africa as a continent where singularly horrible things happen that go unreported because the West is involved in the exact same shit.
And what is the idea behind the video? That we spread the word about Kony—great, I can live with that. That we walk around wearing bracelets with “Kony 2012″ written on them and make them into the next livestrong bracelets? I can’t live with that.
Although awareness is definitely the first step to coming closer to any solution at all, wearing bracelets does not make us socially aware. It gives us the smug privilege of claiming that we are doing something to save “those poor African children.” But they don’t need bracelets. What the children need is an empowering of the infrastructure of their countries so that their countries are equipped with the tools to help them. What they don’t need is the American military sweeping in and sweeping out whenever it feels like it. What they furthermore don’t need is a fickle public that gets excited one second and loses interest the second.
To borrow from another blog post on the topic: “This article is about representation and how Invisible Children erases local realities while purporting to showcase them. It’s about those people who watch the film and believe awareness is the answer to solving the problems. Raising awareness is our generations pat on the back, our absolution of guilt, our mechanism for maintaining our neo-liberal, do-good Whiteness which separates us from those OTHER horrible people who ‘do nothing’. We believe making a film or watching a film changes systems of oppression, patterns of violence, or centuries of colonial erasure. That is what this article is about.”
We have to start somewhere–the filmmaker says. And I agree. We do have to start somewhere, and Joseph Kony is a great place to start. But do it right. Start with empowering Uganda or Liberia, or wherever he is, to deal with the problem. Listen to what those already there need instead of coming up with what you, as an outsider, thinks they need. Develop a plan where the country isn’t dependent on your military but their own resources. Inform but do so through understanding. Allow the people to tell their own stories—don’t take over their stories because this isn’t your story to tell.
And for God’s sake….keep your child out of the video. It’s tacky.
Seriously!
I also urge you guys to check out this link for a more informed take on the subject matter than mine:
http://ericswanderings.wordpress.com/2012/03/06/invisible-children-and-joseph-kony
Something blue for the single life
“The fact is, sometimes it’s really hard to walk in a single woman’s shoes. That’s why we need really special ones now and then to make the walk a little more fun.”
<3
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