Saturday, February 6, 2010
One mtv.com user articulated what was making me uncomfortable in this whole incident--I identify with the "Panda" (blonde, sensitive, silly Andrew) the most out of the housemates, so I had initially sided with him in this dramatic episode.
She writes: Emily comes across as being really rude in this clip and exceedingly insensitive. I am really shocked about MTV's lack of attention to the history of domestic violence in the background of this episode. As much as MTV puts disclaimers in a show, say Teen Mom, about reaching out for help on pregnancy or teen violence, here the network washes their hand and makes Ashley out to be at best, comical, and at worst, an annoying complainer. Being a survivor of domestic violence is NOT easy. You can be triggered by many things - things that to other people seem 'silly' or 'small'. All of these clips, particularly Emily who attempts to portray herself as a voice for independent women, make light of what it means to be a survivor of violence. It is really disturbing. Obviously Ashley has some work to do - but we all do. No one is perfect. But violence won't end in this world until we all begin to take it more seriously - and that means taking seriously someone's 'comfort' (which Emily mocks in this clip), people's boundaries, people's histories and lived experiences, etc.
Back to me: censorship plays such an important role in what we learn to be 'normal.' On the Jersey Shore, remember, the image of Snookie being struck in the face at the bar was blacked out, and they played a p.s.a. about domestic violence at the end. (They also showed the whole clip on all the promos leading up to the show--I hear this, but I don't have cable.) In this carving out of norms regulating violence, is not domestic violence until the woman actually gets punched in the face? Otherwise, are these women just trying to get attention? (Remember how many times that explanation was given for Jersey Shore women's actions as well?)
It's interesting to see which oppressions/fights are sexy enough to make it onto MTV, and which are still completely ignored (e.g. there's only one black housemate; duh, it's a man; the black man talked about how women were naturally dependent and it wasn't that big of a deal; the out bisexual man keeps saying how he doesn't want that to be his defining identity; no lesbians; no trans (okay, props for the other season); no black women (on mtv, anywhere); no race/ethncity whatever you want to call it other than white and black; no combination of the previous). I could go on and on, but I want to watch the new episode of My Life As Liz before Rachel gets back.
Monday, April 20, 2009
Friday, April 17, 2009
Sunday, April 19, 2009 at 7:00pm
Monday, April 20, 2009 at 12:00am
Leighton, Tony and Nathan's house
105B Line St.
The Fun Police
The Co-ed Project
There will be food! This is a fundraiser to help the Festival at Redux happen, so bring a few bucks if you can.
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Friday, September 19, 2008
Monday, September 1, 2008
So, I will begin describing my journey, or whatever you want to call it, by sharing some things that happened while I was in transit (Charleston to Charlotte to Newark to Panama City).
On the first leg of the trip I got to sit by myself, and I just slept (of course—in the words of Rita, the sister-in-law of my cousin’s wife…playing the role of host mama I suppose, “You sleep like a rock.”)
The second leg , I had to sit next to a gentleman in his fifties or so, who was very friendly and kind, but who assumed the patrimonial role that many men this age do when coming into contact with a young lady traveling alone. Well intentioned I know, but did he really have to keep patting my knee, poking my side, and assist me in all things (not just getting my pack down from the overhead, but also helping me take off my jacket?)
And what can I do? I guess I could have asked for a seat change, but that would have been kind of ridiculous. I’m just tired of the nice patriarch. I guess I could have said “please don’t touch me,” but then I would be stuck next to him for the remaining hour and a half flight. So I did what most “young ladies” have learned to do our entire lives: GRIN AND BEAR IT.
But that’s not even the whole story. After we talked about what I considered to be somewhat open-minded topics, e.g. teaching American students to actually learn languages beyond English instead of the joke that such education is now in comparison to other countries, we went on to election talk. (Remind me never to let anyone know that I was a political science major in the future to avoid such interactions-jk.)
He began with the classic line, “My wife says I’m racist because I won’t vote for Barack Obama, but I’m not. I just don’t want someone named Barack Obama to be President. And he’s a Muslim. A Muslim in the White House? How do we know he’s not a part of one of those terrorist cells or something?”
I thought that time after time Obama has shown he is not a Muslim (sorry to skip the whole, wait you are a racist thought), and I told the gentleman I was pretty sure he had gone on record again and again that he has been a practicing Christian (why isn’t this as scary to anyone else? Shit , Christians think I’m going to hell for being a fag.* They hold signs telling me that God hates me (well, they do use the word fag too, but not in the same sense I think) outside my pride festivals, as well as at the funerals of American soldiers).
But back to the guy on the plane, has FOX News and the GOP really convinced the average American that Obama’s name and (false) religious affiliation are enough to keep him out of office, not to mention justify another four years of the Bush agenda?
On the third leg of the trip, I sat next to an American who had bought a home in Panama (which he rents out partially). He spends 9 months in Panama and 3 months in the States each year, returning for a month at a time. What a life!
He told me that he was also interested in coin collecting. I told him I knew the word numismatics from my GRE prep. I don’t think he was impressed.
But when I told him I had been to Cuba, he became much more interested. As I thought, Cuban money has a high selling price at these trade shows. And to think, the Che $3 coin (it comes in bills too) only costs about 12 cents American. He gave me his email, and asked if I was into capitalism at all. I said yes, if it could fund my trip to Cuba.
I used my headphones and sleep to avoid any more interaction with him. But, alas, he had been drinking at the airport bar and on the plane, so he kept having to get me to move so he could go to the bathroom (though one time while I was ‘sleeping’ he actually crawled over me and jumped into the aisle).
Then, finally, an hour and a half late, we touched down in Panama.
*Sorry if I offend, but just think of it as the whole reclaiming the word thing.