Showing posts with label resistance. Show all posts
Showing posts with label resistance. Show all posts

Monday, October 14, 2013

My Pink Chair, the Beach, and me: Being as Resistance




 "Within complex and ever shifting realms of power relations, do we position ourselves on the side of colonizing mentality? Or do we continue to stand in political resistance with the oppressed, ready to offer our ways of seeing and theorizing of making culture, towards the revolutionary effort which seeks to create space where there is unlimited access to the pleasure and power of knowing, where transformation is possible? This choice is crucial. It shapes and determines our response to existing cultural practice and our capacity to envision new, alternative, oppositional aesthetic acts. It informs the way we speak about these issues, the language we choose. Language is also a place of struggle.” (bell hooks “Choosing the margin as a space of radical openness” from Yearnings: Race, Gender and Cultural Politics.


October 9, 2013 found me sitting on the beach. Just me and my pink chair. Sitting and being.

How do we begin to engage in radical acts? How does going to the beach become a part of my radical acts? At first glance, the image of me siting on the beach does not seem to rise to the level of an act of resistance. However, for me it was and continues to be.

Often we don’t think of the language of busyness, necessitated for a “late” capitalist state, as part of the oppression we as Black women face.  The language of busyness exists as the contrast for the language of idleness/laziness. In deed, there is a politics involved in these narratives. Consequently, there exist space for resistance.

Busyness can be used to mask so much—insecurity, or need to feel needed, our fears that to not appear busy is to not fit the mold of success. So we stay busy, we keep our children busy—we are busy just for the sake of being busy.

Have you tried to get together with anyone recently? We now have to schedule a simple get together weeks in advance. There is very little opportunity for spontaneity in building friendships. Why? Because we are all so busy.

Some of us believe that we have to be constantly writing, researching, grading and the list goes on in order to achieve tenure. The model we are often given, real or fictitious, is to be constantly in motion. Motion because equated with success and subsequently self-worth.

This I argue contributes to our oppression. We have bought into, to sound somewhat Marxist, capitalist exploitation of its workers. We know that we can’t maintain the busyness of life; we know that we need human interactions, on a substantive level; we know we need to take a moment to simply sit and enjoy the beach. Yet we resist. We resist because we believe that to exist in the academy is to follow the capitalist model of constantly doing. After all we are fighting against the myth that we don’t belong. Thus, not only must we perform the expectations of capitalist academe, we must go above and beyond.

So, I resisted and went to the beach. I was tired—emotionally and physically. I could not and more importantly I didn’t want to perform the expected norms of what it means to be a professor. I found a different model. One that allowed me an opportunity to (co)exist with nature and to simply just be.

It is in my act of simply just being that I resisted positioning myself “on the side of [the] colonizing mentality.”  I do believe that we can have success without constantly being busy. In part, we have to recognize how this model and the accompanying language—which is often couched in praise—actually oppress us. It oppresses us on various levels, including, but not limited to making us into someone we don’t recognize. The haggard look and the stress we consistently endure take us away from our true beings.

So-called idleness is not necessarily bad. We need rest. We need to rejuvenate. Thus we must resist the language of busyness and create other narratives of care.

This is the ninth post of my 31-day blogging challenge. You can tweet me at Dr_JZ using hash tag #31dbc to share your thoughts and share your stories.

Wednesday, October 9, 2013

How do I go on?


 I often write about my life as a woman of color. It’s not because I constantly want to write about the challenges I, and so many women, face. I write as a form of resistance. I write to help unmask what so many try to mask—inequalities. Black women for centuries have fought to have their voices heard. Not to make others feel guilt, but to simply be free.

But sometimes it’s just hard. It’s hard to always pick yourself up, dust yourself off and build community in the process.

Some days I feel myself wanting to scream in response to the micro-aggressions I face. 
Some days I find myself wondering is it me.
Some days I find myself wondering can I go on.
Some days I find myself wondering is there an alternative

An alternative to a force that seems to want to strip me to the core
An alternative to the force that seems to want me to forget who I am
An alternative to the force that seems to want to rob me of my basic instinct to love.

Fannie Lou Hamer

 So I search

I search my Bible for wisdom
I search the words of my Black women warriors who have left a blue print on how to survive
I search for a pray of wisdom, strength and forgiveness

I resist the urge to eat cheesecake
I resist the urge to drink a can a coke
I resist the urge to hate
I resist the urge to become bitter
I resist the urge to walk away from it all
I resist the darkness

But you see, my resistance gets worn down with time
Each time I’m told that my experience is not “real”
Each time I’m told that my voice doesn’t matter
Each time that I’m told that gendered-racism doesn’t exist
My resistance gets worn down.

The voice of Fannie Lou Hamer rings in my ear.
Like her “I’m sick and tired of being sick and tired”
I’m simply sick and tired of being sick and tired!


This is the seventh post of my 31-day blogging challenge. You can tweet me at Dr_JZ using hastag #31dbc to share your thoughts.