Directed by Nuala Cabral
This is an experimental piece about women ritually facing street harassment as they walk home. Shot in Brooklyn and Philadelphia, it mixes 16mm film, video, poetry and music in an effort to honor and reclaim our humanity in the public sphere. This is for the walkers, talkers and those who say nothing.
To read responses to this film check out the links below from fellow bloggers Tokumbo of NYC and Reza of Rhode Island (RezaRitesRi.com)
A couple of weeks ago I found out that one of my dearest young friends (a girl who is like a younger sister to me), joined the army.
She did not inform her parents, her brother, or me, before making this decision. The army recruiters in her high school ROTC program swept her up.
Of course, this is not how she sees it. The army recruiters have promised her a scholarship for college, after she fights their wars in Iraq and Afghanistan for four years.
College is something we’ve talked about since I met her 8 yrs ago, as a tutor in a Providence refugee resettlement program. In general, education has constantly been part of our conversations. This is how things began.
At one point early on however, it occurred to me that simply teaching the basics of English and math to her and her brother was inadequate. Her family had moved their life to a country with little support and no relatives. Over time we grew closer and our teacher-student relationship morphed into a mentor-mentee friendship.
Tutor sessions at the International Institute led to tutoring at home, science experiments, family dinners, teacher-parent conferences, trips to the beach, walks on the Blvd, and conversations about peer pressure, cultural disconnect and boys. And this is how I began to call her my ‘lil sis. Even when I left Rhode Island for college or internships, we always made time to get together and stayed in touch.
Then two years ago, her family moved to a small town with lots of factories in South Dakota, joining an Ethiopian community and family friends. This time, the miles apart made it difficult to stay in touch. She got a job at McDonalds, working 6 days a week and found herself a boyfriend. Meanwhile, I started a film program in NYC and graduate school.
One of the good things about moving to S.D. was that she entered a better school than the ones she attended in Rhode Island. Of course, a “better” high school still does not necessarily make college seem like a realistic goal when it is not affordable.
A couple of weeks ago her brother and I talked, vented and expressed our concern and shock with one another. At this point we agree that expressing this concern to his sister would be detrimental– it was too late. She’s going to Texas to start basic training this week. And who am I to question her judgement? She sees this as an opportunity for a better future, which is quite possible. I’ve seen it.
Crystal, one of my oldest childhood friends, joined the army out of high school. She too joined the army because she saw it as a gateway to college. Now, eight years later, she is considering making a career in the army since she has earned the rank of a sergeant. She has already completed two tours in Iraq where she earned a purple heart, and is leaving this month for her third tour. Crystal is now independent, owns her own car (which she loves talking about!) and is in love and happily married to another soldier.
Several years ago I visited Crystal in Texas after her first tour in Iraq.
We hung out in a refreshing little pool with her army friends in their apartment courtyard and joked liked old times. Crystal is one of the most hilarious people I have ever met and she is a master storyteller. She has a way of making any experience sound interesting or funny, not excluding her tour in Iraq. “Girl, you know what a wind storm looks like…?!” I listened to her stories and saw them coming alive in my head, imagining her in dessert wind storms, hauling equipment out of Humvees and tanks. She talked about the kids in Iraq, how it was hard to know when they were coming to the US soldiers to get candy or cause them harm.
As interesting as she made it all seem, I didn’t want her to go back. I knew that even though she didn’t talk about the violence in detail, she was constantly in danger there. I wanted her to leave the army and come home.
If you wanted to leave, how could you do it? If you got pregnant would they allow you to leave?
I had all these questions and she and her friends found them amusing, but I was dead serious. Finally she said in a matter of fact voice, “Once I signed that paper, my thoughts and my body no longer belonged to me. I belong to the Army now. They basically own me.”
Wow.
While I do not believe that war is ever the answer, I have an incredible respect for soldiers. Soldiers like Crystal, a purple heart winning Sergeant from Providence Rhode Island and my lil sis, an Ethiopian refugee with a beautiful heart and a love for drawing. They are just two women looking for a better life. A life of independence, with choices and stability.
I won’t be in enlisting in this lifetime, but I hope that my lil sis will call on my dear friend now that they are in the army together. I think that at this time, Crystal will be a better mentor than I ever was.
Hopefully they will be safe and home soon. And as they reach and obtain their dreams and independence, may they both know this: Soldier, we love you.
This song, written and sang by Rita Martinson during Vietnam, has a timeless message. When I listen to it I think of my girls, and I wish for peace.
Radio interviews…. cool because I don’t have to worry about how I look, just how I sound. But will I get my message across with clarity and authority?
When I interned at the Women’s Media Center in NYC in 2008 I learned that women are less likely than men to refer to themselves as experts. This is reflected and reinforced in news media, a domain where for many years women were excluded from delivering serious news topics because their ‘high-pitched’ voices were deemed as not authoritative.
I was taken aback one afternoon when the President of the WMC, renowned journalist Carol Jenkins, assured the other interns and I that we are ALL experts on at least three topics. As we ate lunch together she asked us to list three areas that we could speak on with authority. It’s important that we realize we all have experience and knowledge that is worth sharing, she said. We all have a message to share with the world.
Upon listening to a radio interview I did last year, Jenkins’ advice resonates with me even more. Women’s voices should be equally represented in the media, as voices of authority. Women can help this reality materialize by not only holding media institutions accountable, but by daring to become those voices.
Honestly, I was scared shitless in my first radio interview if you can’t tell by my quiet, wavering voice. And clearly I have room for improvement. Despite my stuttering and shyness however, I realize that my voice is worthy of being heard. Using resources like the Women’s Media Center will help me craft my messages, and write them or speak them with authority. And taking advantage of media opportunities like the radio program ”She Speaks Truth” is critical. With more practice I will become a better speaker and writer, just like Carol Jenkins herself, an author and Emmy award-winning former news anchor and correspondent.
And if I can do it, (a bumbling, feisty, but shy graduate student), anyone can do it.
Here’s an interview I did on BSR 88.1 FM. last year. We are discussing “Who’s That Girl: Women of Color and Hip Hop” a reincarnation of my first documentary “Reflections on Women of Color and Hip Hop: A student documentary”.
The program, (then called ‘Ladies First’ and currently titled ‘She Speaks Truth’) is hosted by Satta on Brown Student & Community Radio in Providence, Rhode Island.
I met this guy who I like. And then I saw a cartoon he posted online.
To be honest, it was a turnoff. But I thought it would be better not to judge him for it and get to know the brotha. So I wasn’t going to bring up the cartoon.
Then one day it came up.
“It’s not funny and it’s actually pretty effed up,” I said. In order to explain myself, I made an analogy. “Would you still find it funny if, say it was a white couple and the man rung the woman’s neck after she gave birth to a brown skinned baby?”
His answer was no. ”It’s animals. I wouldn’t have posted the cartoon if it were actual people,” he said.
But to me, the fact that they were animals was unimportant. It was difficult for me to explain, it was just something I felt. So I tried my best to express this and he listened, asked questions and told me his thoughts. I found it ironic when I learned that he is man who has actively and personally stood against violence against women, but would still find this cartoon funny enough to share with the world.
I think there was some understanding at the end of our conversation/debate. This cartoon, even though it is just animals, reinforces the idea that violence against women in SOME situations is acceptable and even funny.
And this happens all the time in media. And some of us laugh along, because it’s purely “entertainment”, something void of greater meaning or effect. But we must realize that what we find FUNNY is often political. Subconsciously our sense of humor is shaped by our culture and our expectations. It’s no wonder that in a world where we have been conditioned to be entertained by violence (through television, film, video games), we do not question it.
This is the way hegemony functions. Steiner and Carter (2004) argue that subordination is maintained not through coercion but through compliance of a subjugated class. Media plays an instrumental role in this. We are fed certain ideas and roles that are problematic, but they are presented as natural, unproblematic and unchanging. So we accept the hype, even when it degrades and dehumanizes us and supports groups with privilege and power. Not only do we accept it, but we perpetuate it and reinforce it.
Clearly I’m not saying that people who laugh at this cartoon would necessarily be violent towards women or would condone violence against women. What I am saying is that it is not NATURAL to laugh at it, or even the idea of it. It’s problematic and we should recognize that by laughing at and subconsciously excusing violence in certain situations, we are reinforcing a broader culture of violence.
I find that men often accuse women of overanalyzing things. At times they may be right. But I think it’s important for women (and people of color and other marginalized groups) to understand that this accusation is often inherently flawed. In many cases, especially when it comes to messages women encounter in a media saturated world, it is necessary for us to ask questions, analyze and challenge what we see and hear. Staying silent is just as good as laughing along at a stupid, loaded cartoon and a greater message that is harmful to us all.
If we want to end a culture of violence, taking guns off the street is not enough. We must be fearless about the way we THINK about violence. We must think critically if we ever want the culture that supports violence to change.
Word. And cockadoodoo.
Carter, C., Steiner, L. Ed. (2004) Critical Readings: Media and Gender. (p.2). Maidenhead: Open University Press.
“You’ll make a terrible housewife,” my Nana said while watching me make a mess of the saran wrap as I struggled to tear off a piece to cover a plate of leftovers.
A sheepish and then devilish grin sprawled across my face as I took a moment of silence to think of a proper response, respectful and honest. I probably fell short when I finally blurted out, “Nana, I’m not planning on being a housewife,” before laughing from my belly while my grandmother just shook her head, raising her eyebrows. (She was not laughing).
Clearly, my grandmother was disappointed with my perceived incompetence as a homemaker and my disregard for this role. Today, I still cannot tell her that I’ll become an ideal housewife. I just ruined a roll of tin foil last week and I still can’t fold fitted sheets correctly. Anyway, I have no interest in perfecting certain arbitrary skills related to housekeeping. My mother used to make me iron out the creases in table cloths and cloth napkins at holiday dinners, and it would make my blood boil. I was just so irritated because it seemed like such a pointless waste of time. Who cares if there are creases in the table cloth from being folded? Certainly not me. And I never saw a man iron such a thing. After years of complaining about this task and pleading to do anything else to help prepare for dinner, my mother decided it was no longer necessary to iron them at all. This was the best holiday I ever had. It was probably around this time when I started helping my mother cook more and started hearing my grandmother allude to it. The everlasting question (at holiday dinners, cookouts, etc.) is “Nuala, what did you cook?” Clearly, there became a point when saying “nothing” felt embarrassing and unacceptable.
While today I cannot promise my grandmother that I will be an ideal housewife or homemaker, I do have a couple of promises to make to her and myself concerning my abilities in the kitchen. These pacts are less about gender roles and more about nourishment, and cultural and familial responsibilities. The first promise is that I will be able to nourish myself (and others when I choose). And the second promise is that I will do my best to learn how to cook family recipes, including Cape Verdean dishes she and her elders grew up cooking (gufong, cachupa, conje, etc.), so that I can pass the recipes (and connected stories and culture) on to my family’s next generation.
These intentions along with my reality, helped me put these promises into motion. Like many other twenty-somethings, living on my own has forced me to become responsible for my own nutrition and what a better way then to start with family favorites. Unfortunately there was one problem right from the start: I don’t like to cook.
Now baking, that’s another story. I started baking regularly in the sixth grade and never stopped. All the sweet stuff– cookies, fudge, pies, cakes, pies, brownies. A family friend recently called me “Queen of the Cocoa Bean” and I felt both amused and honored. I enjoy the simplicity of baking– there is one product, not several that must be ready at the SAME TIME. And plus, I have a sweet tooth. Unlike baking, I’ve found that cooking tends to involve more multi-tasking and timing is important. Let’s just say that these are not my strengths, especially in the kitchen.
In order to reconcile my dislike for cooking and need to nourish myself with non-desserts, I decided to focus on learning the recipes for dishes that I absolutely LOVE. Lately, whenever I eat a delicious dish I try to get the recipe and make it soon after– while I’m still excited about it. By focusing on specific recipes and trying to perfect them, I have been able to develop a small, but substantial menu of foods, other than sweets. Getting a recipe for a dish I’ve tried and loved, created by an individual I know (a friend, co-worker or relative), is a gift. Knowing the story behind the dish (there’s a story behind every dish) makes this gift even more meaningful.
Upon moving to Philly last year for graduate school, I met a circle of friends from diverse backgrounds who like me appreciate a social scene that is laid back, inexpensive and fun. They are other twenty-somethings like myself, graduate students and young professionals with hectic schedules, slender wallets and hungry bellies. Throwing potlucks just made sense and so we started having them habitually.
A couple of these friends enjoy to cook and some hate to cook, but most of them are in a similar boat as myself– learning to cook out of necessity.
Instead of treading this irritating journey alone, we’ve decided to help each other by sharing our favorite recipes with a little humor and pizazz through an online cooking series: Cool Cooks.
Some of the featured recipes we have learned from our elders and are reflective of our respective cultures (African American, South Asian and Palestinian for example). Others are simply recipes that rock our world. And yes, there will be some baking in there. Can’t ignore the sweet tooths! We’ll just try to have some balance. To ease the painfulness of cooking, we will teach only the dishes that motivate us to cook and make us FEEL like Top Chefs. We hope you enjoy our recipes and “how to” videos. Please feel encouraged to share recipes of your own.
They say “if ya cant take the heat then get the eff out of the kitchen!” Cool Cooks may not like to cook, but we can take the heat because we gotta eat. And we’re getting better. Just you watch, dear grandmothers and dear world. Welcome to our kitchen.
