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Post from Staffer Brenton Joo Mitchell

By Brenton Mitchell on January 25, 2012

The Pensyltucky Korean’s Korner: “Send them back to Mexico!”

There’s a quote that hangs in the lounge of our office and it reads “I don’t like that man. I must get to know him better” ~Abraham Lincoln. I came across this video last night. After watching it, I wonder how can I, someone who thinks very differently and holds a different understanding of the role migrant workers play in America, try to understand this? I think about the people in my life I struggle to “like” or befriend and I shudder at the thought of offering that kind of energy to them. Yet, if my ultimate goal is to bring peace to that relationship, or peace to that part of our world, how can I not offer that energy?

What keeps me from understanding that person more?

What keeps you from understanding that person(s) more?

How could I “steer into that curve?”

How could you “steer into that curve?”

For me, what are the benefits of understanding vs. not understanding?

For you, what are the benefits of understanding vs. not understanding?

With understanding,

Onwards & Sideways

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Post from Staffer Tim Taylor: Fauxtivism, Facades, and Facelifts

By Tim Taylor on January 20, 2012

You don’t need to look much further than the recent surge in interest about the Stop Online Piracy Act (SOPA) to find an example of what I’m talking about when I use the term “Fauxtivism.” As a by-product of the coordinated black out  of sites such as Wikipedia, Google, and Reddit, many have taken the battle against censorship to facebook and other social media forums – changing their profile pictures to the ominous “Site Removed” (right) image or by posting/tweeting/sharing about the dangers of the bill and urging each of us to contact our representatives and take a stand for free speech.

The catch is that each of us can safely assume that most of these posts are futile; few individuals will seek to develop a sophisticated and multifaceted understanding of the issue, and even less will take the time to write or call a representative. Thus, ‘Fauxtivism’ is enabled through both ease of access and the desire to present ourselves to others the same way that we see ourselves. Some would go even further and claim that people are out-and-out fakers, and that, rather than spreading awareness, fauxtivism trivializes issues.

While these ideas are easily dismissed as cynical, it is also possible that those few individuals who are willing to take action will discover an issue BECAUSE of fauxtivism – and that, as such, the practice is not inherently futile.

In either case, the underlying premise is not a new one: how others perceive us matters, and how we want to be perceived affects our actions and decisions. We develop a façade for those situations that require it, and change it as necessary. The kicker is that in many situations, how it looks (or seems) is actually more relevant than how it is.  From lip syncing under the pretense of live performance, to not actually mixing a live set as a DJ, to one of the most famous and talented musicians in the world playing for pocket change, to plastic surgery, all the way to perceptions and misunderstandings about religion; image and pretense are intensely relevant to each of our lives.

While it is easy to identify and condemn this cultural motif, understanding the importance in distinguishing between how we perceive ourselves, how others perceive us, and what our actions objectively represent is much more difficult. Since we can safely assume that none of us will ever ‘objectively’ understand and view ourselves or our actions, this means that the entirety of our lives is played out in the realms between how we want to be seen by others, and how they see us. To complicate matters; everyone already knows this, and acts accordingly (look no further than your facebook feed).

As always – this leads to some very difficult, and interesting questions: How plausible is it to understand what our actions objectively represent? How can the difference between how we perceive ourselves and how others perceive us affect our actions? What makes the disconnect important? How might our perceptions of others affect how we are treated by them?

PS: If you want to take action against SOPA – both google and Wikipedia have great resources to help you do so.

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The Pennsyltucky Korean’s Corner: Post from Staffer Brenton Joo Mitchell

By Brenton Mitchell on January 17, 2012

In elementary school, I remember other kids coming up to me and making a “wahhhhhhh” sound while they imitated their favorite martial artist. In middle school, I remember being teased for my weight and being called “sumo.” On choir tour in Brazil, I remember being followed around by groups of children and adults pointing and yelling Jackie Chan! Jackie Chan! Jackie Chan! I used to get very embarrassed and angry when people would say things like this to me. To this day, I still feel some twinge in my gut when people ask me “where are you from?” followed by, “no, I mean where are you from?” 

What I’ve come to realize as an “adult” is that throughout my life, I’ve been working with boxes and stereotypes. I’ve been getting upset when I feel like I’m being boxed in…when I’m told I’m “different.” Some may find it hard to believe that I would struggle with being labeled as “different.” Some may find it hard to relate to the idea of being “boxed in.” Yet, over the course of a conversation about our relationship, my girlfriend helped me to transcend some of those boxes and use them to relate to other people. 

I realized that being boxed in as kung fu master or successful actor is an okay stereotype…an okay box to be placed in. It’s okay for people to think that I might be able to break their leg with my left pointer finger or that I can push them around the room like I’m the worlds strongest man. Yea, I’m okay with people thinking that. It’s through these experiences that  I’ve been gifted the opportunity to empathize with others. Others who may be boxed in for similar reasons, yet whose boxes are filled with ideas like “thug, animal, murderer, illegal immigrant, or rapist.” Others, whose boxes may mean they struggle to find a job that pays a livable wage. Boxes that may discourage people from feeling like they are approachable or intelligent, or that they can become something other than people’s entertainment. Or, boxes that prevent or don’t allow for people to understand the concept of a box. 

These boxes go beyond race, ethnicity, and “color.” They can also be filled with words like fag, slut, homo, dyke, bro, sorostitute and old. The question I’m left thinking with is; how can I find other ways to flip the box inside out? How can you?

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Post from Staffer Sheffy Sodhi

By Sheffy Sodhi on January 17, 2012

I often wonder what I would look like as a different race. I was able to see that today with the HUMAN RACE MACHINE at the HUB. (The Race machine will be at the HUB all week from 10 AM-5PM, by the central staircase.)

Seeing myself as different races allowed me to feel “race-less” in a way. It was so easy for me to accept my face as Asian, Black, Hispanic, and Middle Eastern. Since I saw my face morphed into a different race, I have been thinking about what being a certain race actually means. The machine didn’t change me as a person, only the physical parts of me changed. The concept of race is man-made and the experiences that come with being a certain race are also very man-made.

For me, it has always been tough to “belong” to a race and a group of people. I am not Indian “enough” because of the person I am, and because of how much of the American culture I have taken in as a part of my identity. Yet, I will never be “American” enough because of the color of my skin. Racially I am Indian, yet I feel like I experience my world in a somewhat white perspective. (And how much is being American synonymous to being white? That’s a whole other topic for a whole other post.) So what does that really mean? Am I white or am I Indian? How does the color of my skin get to define my experience when it is such a small part of my genetic make-up?

As much as I don’t want to believe in the concept of race, it is still very real in the world I live in. We, as a society, are afraid of the physical differences we see in each other and have created this concept of race. We assume that because of these physical differences that define us as a certain race, we are inherently very different from each other. Being different from each other and being afraid of these differences strengthens the concept of race. Fear perpetuates the idea of race and the barriers between people. The fear of these differences keeps us from recognizing that there is no such thing as a race gene. I believe we are afraid of what we do not know and what we feel we cannot experience because we look different.

Fear is: False Evidence Appearing Real. I link that sentence to the idea of race and racial barriers because I believe that as a society, it is very easy to accept false evidence about people and believe it to be real. With race we link all these ideas, judgments, stories, perceptions, and assumptions, and allow these things to be real in our minds. We have to face what we fear and who we fear in order to start the process of wanting to understand more, rather than continuing to accept the false evidence that we have about each other. A way in which we can start to think about ourselves outside the concept of race is to see our faces as different races and allow that to be real for us.

The Race Machine can be a wonderful experience and the start of breaking down the barriers of that fear. To see my face as someone I am afraid of is an out of body experience. To see that I could easily be the person that I fear is the start of losing that fear for me. To face what I fear is the only way I can start to understand the fear and understand how silly the fear is.

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Post from Staffer Tim Taylor :: Legos are for Boys. Also Girls. Wait…

By Tim Taylor on January 11, 2012

When my brother became a father, I was provided with some unique insight into the challenges associated with stigma and gender when raising a child – especially one whose culture you identify with. Upon reflection, I realized that many of these struggles were present for my father as well. Despite the clear and obvious distinction I was making as a child between my G.I. Joe figures and my sister’s Barbies when we played together, I’m not sure this distinction was so overt to my father, and he let me hear about it. I can even remember this struggle extending to colors and what I wore when I was told that my purple shirt was not a ‘boy’ shirt at my day sitters’ house, and I was asked why I wasn’t wearing a blue one instead.

In the shadow of the recent holiday season, there has been resurgence in the discussion over gendered toys and colors in marketing as a result of Lego’s decision to release the “Lego Friends” collection, targeting young girls. Many feminists have taken issue with the distribution of the “pinkified” toys that serve to perpetuate gender stereotypes (think taller, skinnier lego men with boobs and pink lego bricks, in very ‘domestic’ sets) citing their own experiences with ‘traditional’ Legos as children as evidence of this. This isn’t the first time Lego has reached out to young girls, and many parents and activists also cited a 1981 Lego ad (pictured left) as the ‘correct’ way to advertise Legos to young girls.

Conversely, some argue that the point of these sets is the same as it has always been: to be taken apart and used to create something new, and unique. This process is truly ‘neutral’ and therefore the initial colors of the bricks are hardly relevant.

In either case, the controversy calls attention to some very interesting gender and social dynamics concerning the parent’s role in the gender development of a child and its relationship to marketing. Lego claims that a billion dollars of research supports the notion that girls want pink toys and domestic sets (at least with Legos).

More importantly, however, are questions such as; who is responsible for those girls’ desires?  What events shape our gender experience so compellingly that by the age of 5, girls identify with pink and boys with blue? How do we navigate the minefield of gender development when our son/daughter/niece/nephew/brother/sister wants to enact a gender stereotype, or directly oppose it (I always wanted the female version of the teddy bear I owned as a child)?  What are some differences between what boys and girls might ‘need’ to develop their gender identities – and how can those differences be encouraged and enhanced to allow integration without perpetuating cultural hegemony?

 

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Post from staffer Brenton Joo Mitchell :: The Pennsyltucky Korean’s Corner

By Brenton Mitchell on January 10, 2012

Yo chicas & bro’s check out this article I just found.

After reading it I find myself thinking “how does this relate to me?” A moment of pondering passes by and I realize that while I may keep the thoughts I have about women to myself and the words I choose to incorporate in the stories I tell myself about women may be more “appropriate,” yet at the end of the day I’m still engaging in a similar thought process: Women are “targets” who I rank based on what our culture has come to define as “hott; “soft skin,big tits, small waste, and curvacious derriere.”

So:
1. how do those words influence the feelings I have towards women?

2. How do the words I use to describe and understand a woman’s physical appearance shape the way I relate and connect to her or any woman?

3. If the idea that “a choice of words is a choice of worlds” holds true then what does this mean for the way we as men, especially young men, speak about women?

4. And women, what are the words you use to refer to your female kin and how do they impact how you interact and feel about them?

I offer these questions to you and hope you’ll join in me in some good ol’ fashioned critical thinking.

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Sheffy’s Fifth Doha Journal

By Sheffy Sodhi on December 14, 2011

I made a promise yesterday that is going to be the hardest promise to keep.  I made this promise after a dialogue with Palestinian students. This dialogue was a part of one of the sessions for the UNAOC. Being a part of that dialogue has left me stronger and weaker at the same time, and I am working on allowing the strength to grow bigger than the weakness.

We started the dialogue with the question, “How free are you to do what you want where you live?” For me, that question can be interpreted in many ways and the accessible amount of freedom anyone has in the United States is directly linked to race and class. Technically speaking, based on the interpretation of our constitution, we are all “free”. And that is simply true. If one has the money to get the resources to do what he or she wants to do, one can physically go out there and do it. No one will stop me from going to another state, having a road trip, packing my bags and going on vacation, or moving to another city. I am free to physically do anything I want to do and no one questions it. This does not factor in the struggles that many of us have in this country, the families living in projects, and the layers of deep rooted racism and classism that make this very freedom inaccessible. But, ideally speaking, if one has money and resources, one can do what he or she wants to do. It’s the freedom to have access to resources that is debatable.

So, how free am I to do what I want in the United States? I am very much free. I can verbally criticize my President. In Qatar, I was afraid to use Her Highness Sheikha Moza’s name out loud, just in case anyone heard me and I said something wrong. I am free to buy anything I want to buy as long as I have money. I am free to quit my job if I want to. I am free to write to the government to complain. Yet, in all of this, I don’t feel fully free. I feel trapped by my freedom. I truly believe that because we know we have freedom, we, as the youth in the States, trap ourselves in the idea of freedom, and live life through inaction. This ultimately isn’t living with freedom. We are living in the idea of freedom. And this was the most difficult concept to explain to the students in Gaza.

I felt the students in Gaza believed in my freedom intensely were begging me to take action. They truly believe in the American freedom and that we can do ANYTHING. They kept questioning why we, as Americans, don’t do more for Palestine. Why don’t we make our government change its mind? Why don’t we start a movement because we have the freedom in this country to physically do so? Why don’t we DO something? They don’t even have the freedom to buy basic text books for school. They do not have the basic freedom to pack their bags and go somewhere. They are physically trapped and listening to them begging for this basic freedom was a painful process to sit through. In that moment, I could not hold tears back, and I just had to look at my friend, and say, “We all do not care enough. And we do not know how” I sat there, on the winning team, feeling more powerless and helpless than ever. I didn’t know to explain the idea of apathy in the American culture. And I was sad. I am sad. I am disappointed. This is NOT about taking sides and being on the side for Palestine. My personal opinion on this topic has many layers. What I am writing about is raw, human, interaction with Palestinians. But the idea that apathy is so strong in our culture here, it does not matter what side I am talking about.

I cried through the entire second half of the dialogue. I sat there, with my heart fully open and open to the vulnerability in that moment. There was so much I could not properly explain about my story and my story seemed unreal compared to their stories. I get to wake up feeling safe. I do not have to think about safety. I am humbled by their love for life despite how little they have. They have very little but they love richly. Holding hands with the females there made me feel safer in this world. The love that us connected when we held hands brought inspiration back into my life. In the last few weeks, I have been trying to feel “alive” and I have been seeking that certain feeling. (The fact that I have to seek to feel alive is a totally different type of freedom and privilege.)

I was questioning every though during the dialogue. How do I explain that I have the freedom to write to my government, but that is all I have. There is no further movement that happens after the writing. How do I explain that I struggle with deciding what to be passionate about? People in my own motherland, India, are dying every day. What role does loyalty to my ethnicity play in this decision of passion? How do I explain that I am trying my best? I have given up a lot of people in my life because of my belief in the work that I do with World in Conversation? How do I explain that that every time I open my heart to their pain, it hurts so much, so then I close the door to my heart? Then I open it again when my strength is back. And then I get to a place of this helplessness that I need to close it again. I open and close my door to compassion because it hurts too much to recognize that I have the freedom to make changes but I really don’t. I have been granted the idea of freedom but not how to fully access it. I have recognized in this trip that my passion lies in healing humanity.

I am left humbled. One of the females, got up in the middle of the circle, and just hugged me. She apologized for making me cry. She was apologizing for asking the right to her humanity. That moment is lacking freedom. She didn’t feel fully free to express her pain and apologized. That hurt even more. I have realized how passionate I am about human pain and the healing that pain gives a chance to. And as painful as this dialogue was, it was even more healing, to all. In the end, we sat in a circle, holding hands. At this point, half the group was crying, including the facilitator. I left feeling so strong because of the power of dialogue and the power of compassion. And I also left feeling so weak in my tears.

One of the students came up to me afterwards and said, “Promise me you will always have the strength to the open the door when you close it.” I promised him. I will always make room for pain and healing.

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