HISTORY: The Original Deadbeat Dads > Dominion of New York

The Original Deadbeat Dads

By James B. Peterson

“Unless their mothers were raped by their masters/fathers; in that case they would be dogged by the existential tensions of their own miscegenated identities; their sui generis experience with fatherlessness would have been inextricably linked to their condition as human chattel“   — James Braxton Peterson “Racial Redux” (NewBlackMan & Huffington Post)

 

U.S. Supreme Court Justice John Catron is one of several prominent Americans who fathereed children with slave women. His son, James P. Thomas was born to a 36-year-old Tennessee slave named Sally. Thomas escapted slavery, with no help from Catron, who in his entire life gave Thomas only 25 cents.

 

Bill Andrews’ edited, Frederick Douglass Reader begins with a chronology of Douglass’ life.  The first entry reads as follows: “Frederick Augustus Washington Bailey born in February . . . , in Talbot County on the Eastern Shore of Maryland, the son of Harriet Bailey, a slave, and an unknown white man” (Andrews, xi).  Although scholars and historians have been somewhat reluctant to underscore the fact, Douglass was clearly haunted by his peculiar experience with fatherlessness – so much so that as Henry Louis Gates points out, one of his final “missions” in life was to meet with a physician who may have been able to provide him with some information regarding his actual birthdate.  One of the signal achievements of Douglass’ classic 1845 “slave” narrative, was the poignant manner in which he articulated the natal alienation that American slavery produced in its victims.  Not knowing one’s birthdate, being alienated from one’s mother, and not knowing one’s father all colluded to produce in enslaved Black Americans a diminished sense of their own humanity.  When we factor in additional practices of the “Peculiar Institution:” forced separation of families, rape, rampant brutality, and uncompensated, forced labor, the legacy of the institution and its potential to impact the present become readily apparent.

In the epigraph above I am wrestling with the unchecked irony and impact of certain public comments made by politicians.  In this case, then presidential primary candidate Michelle Bachman, fresh off the talking points memo of the moment, suggested that Black families (especially Black children) were somehow better off during slavery because back then . . . (wait for it), Black families were more intact than they are in the Obama era. *Sigh* Although I can imagine that at this point many people can simply tune out these kinds of ignorant comments, for me they reflect just about everything that is wrong with the body politic.  Political figures – and I use this term very loosely – exploit history in order to bend the present back on itself.  And this comment obscures an even deeper hypocrisy.  It is rooted in the Right’s self-professed exclusive claim to traditional family values.  In this scenario, right-wing politicians espouse traditional, western, nuclear ideas about family and pass these off as the sine non qua for all human interactions.  Never mind their own families; never mind their own behavior, biases, infidelities, and most of all – never mind history.

 

A couple of years ago, I made my first appearance on the Bill O’Reilly Show (Fox News).  It was on the occasion of an extremely violent murder of several school-aged children on school grounds.  These murders were horrific and the circumstances surrounding them were mystified by gang lore and the media’s requisite inability to understand the nuances of inner city life.  Mr. O’Reilly opened the segment by citing the (oft-cited) statistics on Black fatherlessness – some 70% of African American children are born to single mothers.  I remember wondering what that had to do with this particular segment, but for O’Reilly and those who follow the Right’s talking points, Black fatherlessness is the fundamental “problem” with Black people and (simultaneously) the prevailing rationale for all crime in America.  I certainly do not want to underestimate the importance of Black fatherlessness here.  Parents have important roles to play in the development of children’s lives.  Having two parents is a blessing (not necessarily a necessity) and the key to children becoming ‘upstanding’ citizens has more to do with any adults — parents, mothers, fathers, uncles, teachers, etc. — taking a sincere sustained interest in them and their successful maturation into adulthood.  That said, Black fatherlessness has been used as a political tool to enhance the public appetite for narratives of Black pathology.  And this is always done in a historical vacuum, as if there are no structural (or historical) precedents to these situations; as if there are no biases about the construction of family in the first place.

When we take just a cursory look blackward into the history of African Americans, there are too many narratives of white pathology: systematic rape, legislated oppression, and yes – Black fatherlessness.  Slave masters separated Black families, but they also raped Black women and sold their own children – or worse, enslaved them.  Let’s just call this white-Black fatherlessness.  This was not solely the purview of Presidents and Senators, it was a normative practice amongst white male slave owners for over two centuries.  I don’t offer this tidbit of history to justify Black Black fatherlessness, I only make the point to unveil some of the historical ironies inherent in the ways in which Black-Black fatherlessness seems to exist in some socio-political space devoid of the institutions, structures, and yes, HISTORY that predates it and may in some strange way originates it.

+++++++++++++++

James B. Peterson

James Braxton Peterson (Duke ’93, UPENN 2003) is the Director of Africana Studies and Associate Professor of English at Lehigh University. He has been Associate Professor of English at Bucknell University, a visiting lecturer and preceptor in African American Studies at Princeton University and the Media Coordinator for the Harvard University Hip Hop Archive. 

 

VIDEO: Judy Mowatt

JUDY MOWATT

Judy Mowatt (born in 1952) is a Jamaican singer.

She joined a singing trio called The Gaylettes in 1967. When the group split she continued as a solo act. She and Rita Marley first sang together when Marcia Griffiths needed some harmony vocals on a song she was recording at Studio One with Bob Andy... The trio settled on the name the I-Threes.

 

PUB: CONTEST - LITERNATIONAL

LITERNATIONAL’S

1st Annual

C O N T R I B U T O R S   P R I Z E

$500 Fiction | $500 Non-Fiction $250 Runner-Up SUBMIT NOW!!

-

CONTEST GUIDELINES

  • ENTRY FEE: NO FEE.

  • COPYRIGHT: All story rights remain the property of the author.

  • GENRE: Fiction and / or Non-Fiction (please do NOT submit work targeted at children).

  • WORD COUNT: 1,000 to 5,000 words.

  • SEMI-FINALIST: ALL semi-finalists will be published in the August issue of LITERNATIONAL.

  • FINALIST: All finalists (fiction winner, non-fiction winner and a runner up in each category) will receive cash prizes as dictated above.

  • DEADLINE: August 15th, 2012

  • ENTER NOW! SUBMIT HERE.

  • ANNONCEMENT: Winners will be announced by THANKSGIVING.

  • ELIGIBILITY: Writers with original fiction and / or creative non-fiction who are over the age of eighteen and HAVE NOT published professionally are eligible. Staff members and featured guest artists (such as Jim Crace) are NOT eligible.  (See Contest Rules for more information.)

  • SUBMISSIONS: You may submit in BOTH categories. You may also make MULTIPLE submissions. However, each contestant is only eligible for ONE prize. (If you win Fiction, you may NOT win Non-Fiction or the runner-up prize in either category.) Simultaneous submissions are allowed, but it is YOUR responsibility to inform us if your work is accepted elsewhere.

  • CONTEST RULES: Be sure to familiarize yourself with Contest Rules.

  • QUESTIONS? CONTACT US.

  • ENTRY: SUBMIT NOW!!

 

PUB: Submission Guidelines - In The Biblical Sense: An Anthology of Apocryphal Poetry

In The Biblical Sense:
An Anthology of Apocryphal Poetry
WHERE TO SUBMIT: 
inthebiblicalsenseanthology@gmail.com  OR the contact form on this website under "Submit Here"

DEADLINE: 
September 1, 2012
 
YOUR SUBMISSION SHOULD CONTAIN:
- Up to 3 poems, up to 90 lines each, pasted in the body of the email or as .doc or .pdf attachments

- The alluded Bible chapter and verse, as well as what text you’re working from: original Hebrew, original Greek, King James, New Standard, Marriott, Hyatt...

- A subject line that follows the following format: name-title-submission (example: DaneKuttler-TheTreeOfKnowlege-submission)  DO NOT put your name anywhere else in the submission.  We're flying blind, and we like it that way.
 
 - If you use the contact form on the website, please ignore the above statement about subject lines.
 
Please send submissions for books we haven't covered:
 I Chronicles, Ezra, Nehemiah, Jeremiah, Amos, Obadiah,  Micah, Nahum, Habakkuk, Haggai, Malachi,  I Corinthians, II Corinthians, Ephesians, Philippians, Colossians, I Thessalonians, II Thessalonians, Titus, Philemon I Peter, II Peter, I John, II John and III John. 

It's unlikely that we'll add another poems for any of the following books:
Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers, Deuteronomy, Joshua, Judges, Ruth,I & II Samuel, I &II Kings, II Chronicles, Judith, Esther, Job, Psalms, Ecclesiastes, Song of Solomon, Isaiah, Lamentations, Ezekiel, Hosea, Daniel, Jonah, Zephaniah, Zechariah, Matthew, Mark, Luke, John, Acts, Romans, Galatians, James, Jude, or Revelations.
 
We  have a lot of persona poems right now.  While we're still happy to include them, we would like more variety of device. 

 

 

 

 

PUB: (Last Call) for Papers: Caribbean Irish Connections « Repeating Islands

(Last Call) for Papers:

Caribbean Irish Connections

Organizers Alison Donnell (University of Reading, UK), Maria McGarrity (LIU Brooklyn, USA), and Evelyn O’Callaghan (University of the West Indies, Barbados) remind us that the call for papers for Caribbean Irish Connections is almost over; the deadline is June 29, 2012. Caribbean Irish Connections, a multidisciplinary conference and workshop, will be held in Barbados on November 16-17, 2012, at the Beach View Hotel in Paynes Bay, St. James, Barbados [also see Call for Papers: Caribbean Irish Connections.]

Although there has been more recent scholarship on the connections between Ireland and the Caribbean, such as The Black and Green Atlantic: Cross-Currents of the African and Irish Diasporas, edited by O’Neill and Lloyd, there remains still too little conversation between scholars based in Caribbean Studies and Irish Studies. This conference aims to open up these conversations as they pertain to history, politics, language, geography, expressive cultural forms, and everyday practices (such as the shamrock passport stamp of Montserrat). The organizers seek the active engagement of scholars working within this highly focused yet potentially broad field to further shape this emerging critical discourse.

Please send abstracts of 250 words and a brief biography to a.j.donnell@reading.ac.uk by June 29, 2012. Presenters will be notified by last week in July. A special accommodation rate has been negotiated for presenters at Beach View, Paynes Bay, St. James, Barbados, where all conference sessions will be held.

Registration fees (including lunches and BBQ supper with drinks on Saturday night) are: US$150 for presenters from the U.S. and Europe, and US$75 for presenters from the Caribbean. Selected papers will be considered for an edited collection in Palgrave’s New Caribbean Studies series.

For more information, see Call for Papers: Caribbean Irish Connections

 

POV: The Evolution of a Down Ass Chick, Part II (or Why Miss Independent Is Probably Single) « The Crunk Feminist Collective

The Evolution of a

Down Ass Chick, Part II

(or Why Miss Independent

Is Probably Single)


By Crunk Feminist Collective
25 Jun

NOTE:  This blog continues the conversation about the implications of hip hop masculinity on heterosexual love relationships between black men and women (see The Evolution of a Down Ass Chick).

Independent Woman: A woman who pays her own bills, buys her own things, and DOES NOT allow a man to affect her stability or self-confidence. She supports herself on her own entirely and is proud to be able to do so (Urban Dictionary)

My father’s absence and general disinterest in me growing up, alongside my mother and grandmother’s insistence that I know how to take care of myself, led to a fierce independence in my twenties that annoyed some and confounded others.  On the outside I held myself together with super glue.  On the inside, I felt my independence was a symptom of larger issues that required me to be self-sufficient.

My independence was not (immediately) linked to (my) feminism both because I didn’t have the language at the time, and because there was no consciousness or intentionality behind it.  I was independent out of necessity and fear.  I needed to be self-reliant because I was afraid of the consequences.  (What would happen if I needed someone and they left?)

My mis-independence was informed by the singleness of many of the women in my life and the way they came together to take care of me and each other, sometimes with harsh words warning me that blackgirls become strongblackwomen, and I better not depend too much on anybody but myself (and, when applicable, them).  What they didn’t say was that there is nothing wrong with wanting to be kept, cared for, and loved on.  I imagine they didn’t want to get my hopes up so they taught me to be prepared because the ability and luxury of being dependent was reserved for rich women or white women or rich white women and we were none of those things.

The lessons I was given insinuated that I should never tolerate the malfeasance of a man, (as in “you can do bad by yourself”) while watching women, with needs that went beyond money-help or affection, put up with all manner of foolishness from men (as in “do as I say, not as I do”).

The confusion of these childhood lessons are equivalent to the confusion forwarded through mainstream media and hip hop.  Last month I wrote about the evolution of a down ass chick, and while an independent woman, like the “good girl” I discussed in the first installment, is in theory the antithesis of the stereotypical down ass chick, I think in a way she can be manipulated into another version of the DAC, riddled with contradictions about being desirable and unwanted at the same time.

I have always questioned the so-called odes to independent women.  When I taught a Women and Communication course at USF and we discussed the independent woman phenomenon black men overwhelmingly said they wanted an independent woman but they didn’t want her throwing it in their face (I would often tease them and ask if what they really wanted was an independent woman on the down low who was self-sufficient in private but needy in public–an adaptation of the lady in the streets, freak in the sheets meme). But their opinions, largely informed by patriarchy and hip hop, were consistent with what hegemony requires and what we were hearing on the radio at the time.  Patriarchy doesn’t allow for women to be truly independent, and hip hop doesn’t allow women to have much gender versatility.  So, the independent woman becomes an anomaly of sorts and can only be acceptable in hip hop, as a romantic option, if she imitates the down ass chick.   I have a theory… stay with me…

Let’s look at the music.

Destiny’s Child first penned a song about independent women in 2000.  Their theme was borrowed by Kelly Clarkson in 2005… and then a rapper and crooner caught on a few years later.  Webbie’s Independent came out in early 2008 and then Neyo’s version, which came out the latter part of that year, was so popular he offered two parts (the follow up She Got Her Own featured Jamie Foxx and Fabolous).

Something happens to the independent woman trope depending on who is behind the mic (or writing the lyrics).

For example, the original version, Independent Women by Destiny’s Child,  upset a lot of men.  The song lyrics paint the picture of an independent woman as cold and aloof, fully financially independent, and disinterested in men or relationships except for occasional sexual encounters.  This “independent woman” taunts men about how she doesn’t “need” them and they aren’t on her level.  This is the independent woman that pissed off my male students.  Essentially, this independent woman is alone because she deserves to be and supposedly wants to be.  She is the modern day Sapphire, emasculating men with every hard-earned dollar and stinging them with every harsh reminder that they are disposable, replaceable, and not needed.  Her vocality about her independence is a turn off.  She doesn’t play her position.  She is not “down” for the cause.

The Kelly Clarkson (I know, not hip hop, but go with me) version of Miss Independent is a woman who has been hurt so much and so bad that she doesn’t believe in love anymore so convinces herself that she doesn’t need a man…or love… but (in the white-washed version) is able to “get over” her temporary independence and find true love.  Note that this version isn’t about the limitations of men, but rather about the erratic nature of love.  This “independent (white) woman” is redeemable, innocent,  and only alone long enough to get over her heartache and defensiveness.

Webbie’s i-n-d-e-p-e-n-d-e-n-t woman “has her own house, car, and works two jobs.”  His version is a down ass chick in disguise because she is a “bad bitch” who he can brag to his friends about.  She is not classy, and is therefore not bourgeois, and doesn’t use her independence or success to intimate men, but rather to entice them.  She “never trip” because she is only interested in the relationship for sex.  She is preferable to a golddigger and instead provides money to her dude, but unlike the Destiny’s Child version she is not braggadocios (instead allowing her man to brag about her and what she does for him).  According to the song, she has a good job, doesn’t need his help with her bills, has good credit, has straight sex game, and “spoils him” (buying him gifts).  He, therefore, can’t be bothered with a woman with material or emotional needs (a fact that he brags about towards the end of the song).

Then there is Neyo’s Miss Independent, which he reportedly wrote as a tribute to his mother and grandmother.  In an interview he described the song saying, “This song is an ode to my mom, my grandmother, my aunts, and all the women all over the world like them – women that can do it themselves and make no apologies for who they are. They’re strong because they’re strong, love it or leave it.”

 

Neyo’s initial intention of Miss Independent was not a woman he was necessarily checking for, but rather one he appreciates and admires (which he says in the intro to the song).  So, even if Neyo & Jamie Foxx sing “there is nothing that’s more sexy than a girl who wants but don’t need me”—they are checking for models-turned-housewives, not Ph.D.s and supervisors.  And while I imagine that there are many men who deep down desire to be with a woman who puts them in the mind of their mama when they settle down, this is eerily similar to the good girl—DAC binary.  This version of the independent woman is the good girl that gets put on the backburner while the needy woman gets all of his attention and affection.

There are at least five things that the independent woman has in common with the original down ass chick:

1)      She loves and WANTS a black man (but doesn’t need him…except for sex)

2)      She makes her own money (&/or goes to school)

3)      She is fly

4)      She is put on a pedestal (albeit different pedestals and for different reasons)

5)      She is in competition with the other (DAC vs. IW)

So essentially I think there are versions of the independent woman, some of which challenge the DAC, some of which mimic the DAC.  I also think that when a woman defines herself as independent it is seen negatively, but when a man recognizes her as independent it is an asset.

Independent women get a bad rap.  Seems they are largely damned if they do, damned if they don’t.  They have needs but to articulate them out loud is emotionally dangerous.

Like Destiny’s Child says, “it ain’t easy being independent” especially since according to one of my homegirls, “men need to feel needed…”  Ultimately the men in my class agreed, saying they wanted to feel needed (like their girl can’t do without them) even if its bullish. (Fair enough, I think everyone, to a particular degree, needs/wants to feel needed/wanted).

Here are the questions of the day:  Do you think independent women are another version of a down ass chick?  If independent women don’t “need” a man for material things, how can they express emotional and physical needs without feeling vulnerable (a fear that oftentimes fuels their independence)?  And how can men in/and hip hop create a space that makes it safe for them to do so?

 

CULTURE: VIBE Magazine Chronicles the Evolution of Ass in Hip-Hop (No, Really, They Did) > Clutch Magazine

VIBE Magazine Chronicles

the Evolution of Ass

in Hip-Hop

(No, Really, They Did)


Monday Jun 25, 2012 – by

When did I first fall in love with hip-hop?

The year was 1986 and my older sister was a sophomore in high school. Her friends would come over, the break-dancing cardboard would go down, and the volume of Egyptian Lover and Electric Kingdom would go up.

And it was on.

The love affair has intensified over the years, ebbed and flowed as love affairs do, but I have ultimately always respected the craft, energy, and life that can be found in hip-hop. Through all of its reincarnations, I’ve stood firm and taken the criticism. “How can you be a feminist and like Jay-Z?” “How can you be an advocate for social justice and not take offense at the violence?”

My answer to both of these questions — and others like it — has always surrounded authenticity. I knew these men. Not them specifically, but brothers like them. Black men with no fathers and different men in and out of their lives. Boys who had to sell drugs to take care of their mothers and younger siblings because their older brothers were already locked up. I knew them beneath the blinged-out shell and I understood. I didn’t condone, but I understood.

“What about the women selling their images for a few dollars?” I would explain that I used to waitress in one of the most notorious strip clubs in Atlanta and a lot of the dancers had goals, aspirations, and dreams and they were working toward them. Some of them had to drink before they hit the stage because they couldn’t stand it. Some of them ran away from home and had been pimped for years. I would tell them about the older stripper — we shared a birthday — who was married to her pimp. I would cringe when young girls look at videos and want to be those girls, be in that club, look like them. Because I knew that it wasn’t all good. The “vixen” is a stripper, the stripper is a prostitute, and almost every man in the video had a wife and children at home.

Not that all women and men in the music industry are pimps and “hoes,” but the strip club is most definitely a microcosm of the music industry. And their environments — sometimes mirroring their brothers’ — were not conducive to them taking another route. Beneath the g-strings and the baby oil and the butt injections were my sisters. I didn’t condone, but I understood.

What I do not understand is the cultural prostitution of hip-hop and Vibe magazine selling it like a piece of ass. Literally.

From Nicki Minaj and Beyoncé, to Buffy the Body and Rihanna, there is a slide show featured on Vibe.com on the evolution of ass in hip-hop. To make matters worse, there isn’t even the pretense of sexual empowerment. It’s merely “during this year, this male rapper decided that this ass is what women should aspire to.”

I kid you not.

To make matters worse, it’s to “celebrate” their June/July Issue Sexy Issue, where reality stars Chrissy Lampkin, Kandi Burruss, Tamar Braxton, and Evelyn Lozada are featured on the cover as “your new role models.”

It was rather easy to deduce that they meant the title in as sarcastic, disbelieving, and traffic-inducing a way as possible, and I was the first to defend the cover against lazy journalistic accusations that they meant it sincerely. Still, I can think of no rational excuse for an entire page dedicated to the “evolution of ass” other than they really don’t give a damn about women, they really do buy into the misogyny and sexism that has come to define commercialized hip-hop, and the page views of teenage boys is worth more than any kind of social consciousness. Hip-hop has it deep flaws and its ugly scars, but one would think a magazine that portrays itself as a keeper of the culture, if you will, wouldn’t reduce it to ass shots.

And one would think wrong.

When did I fall out of love with “commercialized” hip-hop?

The year is 2012 and it happened when I realized that sisters who used to be priceless are now worth no more than “dimes.” Or, better yet, $5.95, wherever Vibe is sold.

 

WOMEN: On Guard, Defend Yourself by Kiini Ibura Salaam

On Guard, Defend Yourself

Kiini Ibura Salaam 

Ten years ago I took a self defense class at a place called Prepare Impact. You learn to fight physically by hitting a man in a suit and you learn how to use your words to defend yourself. During the class, I struggled with the verbal portion, and even noticed myself not speaking up during some encounters after the class. I thought I had not picked up the verbal skills.

Since taking the class my daughter has taken it every year for the last three years. At the end of each kids class, there is a demonstration. I think attending the demonstration reminds me of the strategies involved.

Last night I went to a party four blocks from my house. I left late and decided to walk home. Three blocks were on busy, well-let street. My block, however, secluded and tree-lined by day, is empty and shadowed at night. I turned on my block and looked behind me to see if any one was following. No one was. A third of a way down the block I looked back and saw a man crossing the sidewalk, walking toward the street. When I looked back to see if he had indeed crossed the street, I noticed he was still on my side of the street walking along the edges as if he didn't want to be seen. I crossed the street and u-turned so that I could pass him from a safe distance. When I spotted him, he was hiding behind a tree.

"I'm calling 911," I yelled. He began to walk briskly down the street. I called 911 and stayed on the phone with the 911 operator until I was able to reach my building lobby. I am thrilled that I found my voice and used it to ward of a potential attack. I didn't run, rather I thought about what would be the best way to remove myself from the victim position. I am so happy to have avoided a confrontation, and a little sad that I may need to take a cab four blocks home after hanging out in my own neighborhood.

Here is the original post about my experience in the self defense class.

++++++++
  •  

    10.28.2001

     

    Vol. 9, Self-Defense

    Prepare/Impact Self Defense Training Center
    New York, NY

     

    Eight years ago, while studying in the Dominican Republic, I was assaulted at gunpoint. This came at the tail end of a trip that was marred by serious sexual harassment, most of it physical. I had my body and hair touched by strangers more times than I care to remember. Not only my arms and legs, but the private parts of me were violated too. Here is a description of the assault.
     

    "My last clash with a Dominican man happened at 3:00 in the morning. My friend and I made the questionable choice to walk down a side street on our way home from a club. We heard footsteps behind us and immediately stepped to the side. A man walked by, dragging his hand along my friend's arm as he passed. We had become so accustomed to Dominican men taking liberties with our bodies that we were not alarmed by this. Anger flared, we talked about how fucked up the men were, but we didn't think for one moment we were in any danger. We were wrong.

    After the man reached the corner, I assume checking to see if there would be any witnesses, he made an about face and confronted us with a gun. "Don't scream," he demanded. Everything else he said was a blur. My Spanish comprehension evaporated as my mind scrambled to make sense of the assault.

    He continued mumbling as my friend and I backed away. "Leave us alone," I repeated in a flat voice over and over again. We backed into a corrugated metal fence. The man reached up and pulled the shoulder of my top down to my elbow, exposing my breast. My gaze fell to his pelvis. I noticed his fly was open and his penis was dangling.

    Despite the fact that I had not confronted any of the men who molested me during my nine months in the Dominican Republic, I fought this man. I kicked, I pushed, I did what I could to let him know he wouldn't rape me while I was alive. We struggled until the man stopped fighting. He stared into my eyes, then turned and walked in the other direction. My friend pulled me towards home and we ran."

    After that confrontation, I promised myself I would take self-defense before I left the country again. [Ironically, I've never been assaulted in the U.S. (there has been an attempt or two), and I've lived in two of the most dangerous cities in the U.S., New Orleans and New York.] I saw that I had the heart to fight, I knew exactly where I should be hitting, but I didn't know how to deliver a blow. I didn't know how to force him to leave me alone. That was eight years and six countries ago.

    The description of the assault is excerpted from an essay I recently wrote about sexual harassment on the street. When one of my friends read the article, she said, "you need to take this Impact course that I took years ago. It's full impact. It teaches you to defend yourself." "Yeah, yeah," I said, "I promised myself I'd do that and I want to but, I'm scared." At this point, I'm very comfortable on the street and, honestly, I was afraid to confront violence against women. I mean I think about gender violence all the time. I live under this incredible pressure of knowing that women are being raped and assaulted continuously and constantly all day every day and I'm constantly dodging veiled threats and aggression from men on the street, but I don't really want to see assaults, not even in the classroom. And I don't want to be verbally abused, not even to learn how to handle it. Then another friend chimed in: his wife had done the course and really loved it. At this point it's called what?: taking my medicine. I had promised myself and two friends were encouraging me. O.k., I said, I got on the phone and registered myself for the next class.

    We fought during the first class! I thought we'd just learn things, but the teaching method is: you see an instructor fight, they break down the fight into steps, you drill the steps in groups with the male instructors. They show you posture, they show you exactly where you should hit, they show you which part of your body you should hit with. *** sound bite of a black woman right outside my window: "If I say I don't like whites or blacks, that mean I don't like nobody.*** The men are fully padded—shoulders, groin, head. So when we hit them in the groin, they'd say, "That wasn't hard enough." Or if we elbowed them in the head, they'd say, "That blow glanced off my forehead, you really need to aim between the eyes." Look at the target, was a big instruction on the first day. They were teaching us to BE in the fight. To hit hard and take our time. Then we fought. We went through choreographed moves to defend ourselves against an attacker who grabbed us from behind and threw us to the ground.

    I was teared up for the entire first class. Not because I was breaking down or because I was frightened, but because there was so much courage in the room. Because we were being taught to protect ourselves, and after so many years of skillfully avoiding confrontation, it felt good to be finally dealing with it. There's a woman's class and a men's class: both classes deal with physical self defense, verbal strategies to avoid violence, boundary setting both in your personal life and with strangers.

    The male instructors talked about their experiences in the course and they noted similar benefits to the ones the female instructors talked about: more self-confidence and an enhanced ability to set boundaries, in addition to larger self and environmental awareness and the confidence that they could defend themselves when necessary.

    The women's course deals specifically with the way women are attacked and the way women fight. While men are usually attacked face-to-face, women are often attacked from behind, snuck up on in a predatory way. While men have upper body strength, women's strength is in their hips, so we power our moves with that part of our body. A major component of the course is developing the will to fight. The official stance of law enforcement towards women and rape has been, "Don't fight, it isn't worth it to lose your life over this type of assault, you can't win anyway." I was in tears in class because the assumption that women shouldn't fight for our bodies is what we were all battling in that class. The official party line that we should give in is something we were overturning and it was very emotional for me. Apparently, law enforcement has recently changed its tune, their research has shown that rapists want easy targets and many women have been successful in fighting off rape. That isn't shown in film and on television, but often women who fight, win. And those who lose were in danger of being raped anyway. Fighting does not heighten the possibility that you will die. In my case, I don't care if there is the possibility of death, if you want to take this from me, you'll have to knock me unconscious or kill me.

    In the second class, the fights started diverging from the choreography. Sometimes when it was time to throw an elbow to the head, the attacker would be somewhere else, and we had to improvise and react to his movements. Sometimes when we were on the floor kicking him, he would grab our foot and we had to switch feet. During this class the major lesson was using our options. We have two weapons: our hands and our feet. There are two targets: head and groin. When one of our weapons is taken out of the game, use the other one. When one of the targets is being protected, attack the other one.

    Also, they began to teach us the rhythm of the fight. Instead of going ballistic on the attacker and depleting our energy, we were taught to settle ourselves between each blow. If we hit hard and our blow lands, then we have time to set up the next blow. It's hard not to go crazy and just struggle against the attacker wildly, but the training is in how to keep a cool head and keep going. And oh yeah, I was in tears that whole class too. It was the type of tears I get when I watch people beat odds, like people racing in the Special Olympics or children being their amazing fierce selves. (We also got into verbal self defense in the second class. Clear direct language and setting clear boundaries. I learned that although I'm good at communicating when I'm uncomfortable or angry or threatened, I never set a clear boundary because I don't want to "tell people what to do.")

    The third class was about openings. This is when we started learning methods of fighting back in rape scenarios. They're called reversals. The scenario is we're sleeping and a man jumps on us. The whole key to those fights is total relaxation at the beginning. We learned to feign cooperation (that is much harder than clear direct language and boundary setting), then when we had an opening, we attacked. There were many what-if's floating around at this point of the class, what if he doesn't do this or that or the other. With a rape, we learned, there has to be an opening for him to rape you (unless he ties you up with a rope), he has to use his hands to take off his clothes or yours. He has to allow your legs to be free to enter you. There is a multitude of opportunities to protect yourself. This was difficult to deal with for some of the women, for me, these were the most emotional fights because we were so up-close and personal. We learned moves that would get the attacker off our bodies, but he was still right there, so we had to be ready to follow up.

    During the third class there was no more choreography, we were grappling. The men were doing everything but hitting us. Some women found themselves with both legs and one arm pinned, and they would get frustrated and say, "What do I do now?" in the middle of the fight. We hadn't learned any of this. The instructor would yell, "Find an opening, find an opening." And you could see the woman's gears turning, thinking and there was always an eye or a groin free. And she attacked that and continued with the fight. (Another major component of the course was don't struggle against being held, if the man is holding your arms, don't fight to get your arms free, attack the groin. If the man is holding your legs, don't struggle to get your legs free, attack the eyes. It was a whole new take on fighting for me, another level of controlling the interaction.) It was totally bugged out and R-E-A-L. The pretty choreography was gone, we were just fighting for our lives. (We also did boundary setting exercises with pretend bosses, coworkers, friends, and family. This was the hardest part of that day's class for many people. Learning how to stand up for what you want with loved ones and people who have power over you isn't the easiest task. It calls on you to protect yourself against people it would be inappropriate to fight and who are not threatening you with physical violence.)

    Last week was, as they say here in NYC, bananas! I thought, how much further could they go? They pulled out "extended reversals" on us. I've already said that a reversal is when you go from zero (total compliance) to 100 (total fighting). An extended reversal is after you've already dealt the attacker a knock-out blow, he keeps fighting. In other words, he fights past when the fight should be over. Up until now, when the female instructors fought an attacker, they'd come off the mat looking unruffled and in control. They fought the extended reversals first, and they came off the mat looking like they'd been through some shit. Their hair was out of place, they were breathing heavy, and the whole class was silent in shock. The men were taking the level of the fight to the next notch. My period started that day and I had NO energy, but when I got on the mat to fight, I fought like I had all the energy in the world. I had to. And because I was so exhausted, I couldn't plan an attack. I didn't think about the end of the fight, and I could feel myself waiting for him to come to me. All I did was look for a target and hit it until the fight was over. You have true tunnel vision when you're on the mat, it's you and the attacker and the voices of the women screaming.

    So Saturday is the graduation. It's our last class and during one hour of the class we're going to invite our friends and family to watch us fight [If anyone in New York City is interested in self defense (male or female), feel free to come down. Prepare Training Center 147 West 25th Street, 8th Floor (between 6th & 7th), 3:45 (promptly) to 4:45 p.m.] It is an amazing experience. It's shocking to watch and it's liberating to do. And I'm looking forward to the ripple effect of setting stronger boundaries and taking less mess in every area of my life. Yeah, this is basic information everyone (male or female) should have. It's like knowing how to cook for yourself and wash your clothing. It's self maintenance, self development, self care and self love.

    Be well. Be love(d).

     

     
    Kiini Ibura Salaam

>via: http://www.facebook.com/kiiniibura/posts/251731218271504?comment_id=1062553&a...

WOMEN + VIDEO: Girls for Gender Equity Helps Girls Take Aim at Sexual Harassment > Clutch Magazine

Girls for Gender Equity

Helps Girls Take Aim

at Sexual Harassment

Friday Jun 22, 2012 – by

Catcalls were such a common experience to Kayla, a youth organizer with Girls for Gender Equity (GGE), a Brooklyn-based, grassroots organization devoted to the development of girls and women, that she did not view those things as sexual harassment. In Hey Shorty, GGE’s guide to combatting sexual harassment in schools and on the streets, Kayla says, “It’s this thing that happens to you, because you’re a girl.”

Supporting young women of color in combating harassment is just one way that GGE enacts its mission. GGE and its allies are among those doing real work to help the next generation of women grow up strong and self-assured. According to its mission, GGE is addresses the physical, psychological, social and economic development of girls and women through education, organization and physical fitness.

Joanne Smith, group founder, says GGE arose from her work with young girls and the realization of how few outlets and services were available to them. Smith wanted to help protect girls from unsafe streets and provide a place where they “could express themselves and feel a sense of agency and freedom.”

The organization began working with New York City schools under the auspices of Title IX, a landmark amendment to the Civil Rights Act of 1964 that most people associate with the emergence of girls and women’s sports in schools. But Title IX, currently celebrating its 40th year, has done so much more than make it possible for talented women to enter college on basketball scholarships. (Which, in itself, is important.)

No person in the United States shall, on the basis of sex, be excluded from participation in, be denied the benefits of, or be subjected to discrimination under any education program or activity receiving Federal financial assistance.

–Title IX of the Education Amendments of 1972 to the Civil Rights Act of 1964

Title IX addresses access to higher education; employment; math and science; career education; standardized testing; athletics; education for pregnant and parenting students; learning environments; technology and sexual harassment.

GGE began by offering sports and educational opportunities to girls seven to 12, but the organization, and its offerings, blossomed to include much more. Smith and the GGE team have provided an outlet where girls can see themselves as people of value, no matter their age, race, sexuality or socioeconomic status. Participants are developing their voices and critical thinking skills and they are becoming powerful agents of social change.

For instance, a group of young GGE participants, calling themselves Sisters in Strength, created a documentary called Hey Shorty (See a clip above) that addressed the verbal and physical assaults many girls face everyday as they travel between home and school. The movie won the Best Youth Documentary Award at the 10th Annual Roxbury Film Festival in Boston and, in doing, exposed people to something they rarely see on film–the unique perspective of young girls of color.

Through its work directly with young people, GGE has developed a language to speak about sexual harassment and strategies to address gender-based violence in public schools. I had an opportunity to speak with Joanne Smith last week and I asked her how Clutch readers might employ these strategies with the girls in our lives.

Have a conversation. According to Smith, adults are often eager to deliver important messages, but not to listen. As an ally, it’s important to understand a girl’s point of view. Start by asking whether she knows about street harassment. You may use an article, a real-life incident or maybe the book, Hey Shorty, as an entry point.

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Remember that younger generations are experiencing life differently. Today’s girls are inundated with aggressive sexuality through media, music, smart phones and social media. Their tolerance of certain behaviors may be different from that of Gen X or Baby Boomer parents. Smith admits that coping with this difference in experience can be difficult. What happens, for instance, when your daughter tells you dismissively, “He just touched my butt. It’s no big deal.”

Smith says, take the opportunity for a conversation. How often does he touch your butt? Is that just what you do? Do you touch his butt back? “You’re not trying to indict her. You’re trying to build trust so that you can help her to make decisions.”

A girl doesn’t enter the ninth grade and suddenly decide that unsolicited touching is okay. Smith says, “Since she was 11, she has probably been dealing with street harassment and some form of sexual harassment or gender oppression. She’s had to make hundreds of decisions throughout the day without deferring to mom.”

Smith says a high percentage of school-age children do not identify a parent as someone to go to should they face problems like sexual harassment. They know their parents love them, but they are afraid of being shamed or blamed.

Girls need to be able to express themselves, in their language, and be empowered and supported.

Become an ally to a young woman. Young women and girls need to know that older women in their lives are allies. They need to hear our stories–that we have experienced many of the same things (though our experiences don’t necessarily frame or explain their experiences).

But Smith also reminds that girls need the company of young women their own age who are addressing issues like street harassment. “When I was 15, being exposed to other 15-year-olds have critical conversations was invaluable, as opposed to adults having those conversations. Girls need to know about the amazing organizations that they can be a part of and that there are allies who can support them in whatever it is that they’re going through.”

Tell her: It’s not your fault. Most importantly–girls need to understand that it is not their fault when they are being objectified and that they don’t have to tolerate it. They have a right to tell a boy that his attention is unwanted. If he doesn’t stop, that’s harassment. In school, under Title IX, all students have a right to report (or not report) harassment and receive relief.

Girls who witness harassment can help other girls by supporting them, talking to them and walking with them. They need to understand that harassment is not a right of passage for men and, though it may seem like a social norm, it’s not okay.

Don’t just talk to girls. Boys can be bigger allies than we think, says Smith. Much of street harassment involves displays of “manhood” that boys and young men perform for each other as twisted rights of passage. GGE programs encourage dialogue about gender roles and experiences.

Smith recalls a GGE Gender Respect Workshop in a middle school. The facilitator asked a handsome young man how he felt each morning coming to school. “I’m excited! I’m going see all my boys and hang out and play basketball.” She asked a classmate–a girl–the same question. Her answer was quite different. “I feel insecure,” she said. “Eyes are turned on me. I wonder what these boys are going to say to me now.”

The boy was astounded at the idea that girls might fear him. He saw his behavior and that of his friends as harmless flirting. “I would never do anything to you.” Hearing his classmate’s perspective illuminated what the young man could do to help change the dynamic on the schoolyard.

Talk to your kids at least once a day. And tell them to make good decisions. “It resonates,” Smith says.

Donate and learn more about Girls for Gender Equity at www.ggenyc.org. You can also purchase copies of the Hey Shorty book and DVD. Follow GGE on Facebook and Twitter.