THE SIREN THE COLOR ISSUE
THE SIRENS EDITORS-IN-CHIEF Sophie Albanis Hannah Lewman
COPY EDITOR Zach Lusby
ART Hannah Lewman
Zach Lusby
WORDS Claire Weil
Jessica Sarontay
Amanda Saeed
Ellen Bentson
Vivian Kim
Rebecca Falleur
Zach Lusby
Roxy Jane Allen
Sophie Albanis
Alana Green
Madison Wiegand Brown
PUBLISHERS ASUO Women’s Center
Oregon Web Press
EDITOR’S NOTE This is a strange piece for me to be writing. It is, after all, my last Editor’s Letter, and I have a lot of explaining to do. Most of it has to do with reflecting, soul-searching, rolling-up of sleeves and saying of goodbyes. I’ll start with this. The Color Issue was born out of the collective brainpower of the unendingly brilliant 2014-2015 Women’s Center staff. God bless them, every one. As a staff, we spent a lot of time last year discussing perspective: on feminism, on our surroundings, on interaction and privilege and theory. And at one of our staff meetings, we discussed perspectives on The Siren itself. We asked each other, how do we make The Siren a more accessible forum for radical expression? If we believe feminism to be a highly nuanced matrix of experiences, how do we go about representing as many of those distinctly significant experiences as we possibly can? So we decided to make this issue’s theme as simple as
we could with the intention of soliciting the widest possible range of content. The result was the Color Issue, in which we asked our contributors to respond to the word “color.” Some chose poems, some chose prose, and some chose artwork, examining the meaning of specific colors in their experiences of feminism. We received pieces about gender roles, ecofeminism, and menstruation, and we received an overwhelming number of powerful submissions about race. The Color Issue was a wildly affirming end to my time as The Siren’s Editor-in-Chief. It was the most stressful responsibility I’ve ever held, and it was the best fucking thing I’ve ever done. But now, like all good things—and demanding, hectic, and enormously rewarding things—it must come to an end. And, thus, I pass my torch. Keep reading. Stay powerful. For the last time: Boom! Patriarchy smashed. SOPHIE ALBANIS EDITOR-IN-CHIEF
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THE SIREN THE COLOR ISSUE FALL 15
Charlie Hebdo........................................6 The Red Zone........................................8 Flowing Silence......................................9 From Standout to Burnout...................10 Yellow: Dignity and Ethnicity................14 The Grass is Getting Greener...............16 Being Gay Sucks..................................19 World Champion Eater.........................22 Unconscious Moral Heroism...............24 White Allyship.......................................27 White Boy.............................................30
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CHARLIE HEBDO The violent attacks at the Charlie Hebdo offices in France have left an ominous imprint on the country’s identity. The nation and world lamented, yelling over one another in an attempt to discern exactly who had suffered the most from this atrocity: French culture, French unity, freedom of speech, European security, the Jewish and Muslim communities, the police… Almost nine months later, the residual horror stems not from the tragedy’s casualty count, but from its infringement upon a certain type of pride. These shootings were unspeakably traumatic: they were traumatic for the survivors, the witnesses, and the loved ones of the deceased. Nine months later, they remain traumatic for those who are the most voiceless and the most vulnerable in French society—women of immigrant and/or Muslim backgrounds. The Charlie Hebdo attacks have only served to intensify the injuries these women have faced long before the tragedy. Nils Muižnieks, Council of Europe (CoE)
Commissioner for Human Rights since 2012, demonstrated in a CoE-sponsored report that Muslim women are the targets of 80% of all anti-Muslim violence in France. This statistic highlights an issue that France has failed to acknowledge: that women of Islamic immigrant background are undoubtedly the first targets of the mounting xenophobia inspired by the Charlie Hebdo attacks. Muslim women too are victims of the attacks as they continue experiencing the aftereffects months later. Women with any affiliation to Islam must learn to live in unending fear as they become default objects of national resentment. The French inflict their hatred upon Muslim women simply because it is easy. Too often, these women will not and cannot speak out as their social position makes it impossible for them to fight back in a nation that does not represent their identities or beliefs. In the eyes of mainstream French society, Muslim women exist only in relation to men; they are Muslim whores or Muslim wives, and either way, they
are terrorist-lovers. These women are symbols and vectors of a voice that is not their own. The nation of France has made these women into easy scapegoats for combating the incredible fear that the Charlie Hebdo attacks triggered. The silent suffering of these women is understandable in the sense that if they were to protest, they would be perceived as traitors to a nation that has “generously” welcomed them. They must deny their own cultural identities in order to assimilate and, in some cases, survive. They live with the obligation of proving their own integrity, their own normalness. In the aftermath of the Charlie Hebdo attacks, the French seem to believe they have an excuse—an implicit justification—for victimizing Muslim women. We are watching French schools ban young Muslim girls from wearing long skirts while multiple pregnant women dressed in headscarves have been assaulted in broad daylight. Unsurprisingly, these events have received no national news coverage in France. Nearly ten months later, to commemorate the Charlie Hebdo attacks, I speak out for the women who have no
voice. I ask that we rethink our approach to security and national unity. It is not by approving la loi sur le renseignement, an equivalent to the American Patriot Act, that we will eradicate threats of terrorism. Rachida Dati, the token Muslim representative in France’s government, has urged that the country maintain its “spirit of unity” in the aftermath of the attacks. But such a spirit never existed in the first place—only division, persecution, and exclusion. Dati’s words are meaningless; in order to fight back against both terrorism and the general French malaise, we need to address the issue at its core. Let’s talk about immigration integration. Let’s include the silent majority in the conversation. There can be no constructive vision without their input. The young people, women, and immigrants of France desperately require representation, for it is their future at stake as well. Are they not second-hand victims of the Charlie Hebdo attacks? I am not proposing anything radical. I merely ask that we change our paradigmatic understanding of liberty, equality, and solidarity. words by claire weil *Claire is an International Student from France.
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FLOWING SILENCE
THE RED ZONE Every year, the ASUO Women’s Center in collaboration with campus partners fills the UO Memorial Quad with red flags as a part of the Red Zone campaign. Statistically, on a campus the size of the University of Oregon, 3,302 students will be sexually assaulted while in college. Each flag represents one of those survivors as a visible and difficult reminder that the sexual violence and rape culture surrounding us continues to affect so many of our lives on both a local and global scale. As a sexual violence awareness and prevention campaign, campuses across the nation use the phrase “red zone” - a reference to the area between the 20 yard line and defensive goal in football - to indicate to the first six weeks of fall term that are typically marked by a substantially higher risk of alcohol abuse and sexual assault.
Knowing that the “red zone” is a particularly dangerous time, the campaign aims to remind the campus community that our university is meant to be a safe place for all students. Sexual violence of any kind is never acceptable - not now, not during the red zone, not ever. We are committed to shifting the culture from one that creates and allows for sexual violence to one that promotes respect and justice at all times. If you stop by and bear witness to the red flags in front of the Knight Library, remember that each one represents a real person with a real name. Survivors are not statistics. We are real people, and we are committed to preventing further harm and continued sexual violence. words by jessica sarontay
Clenching my sides, More makeup I apply, So that I may hide The fact that I’m bleeding inside. The blood rushes out of me, As does my innocence when he tells me to unbutton my top, To primp myself up, To make myself pop. Despite my woes. Time evolves and my blood still flows. Month by month, era by era, Like the flow that is dammed by the tampon, I am stuck— Stuck in a world where females who bleed every month, Females who bear man’s sons, Are still classified as the weaker ones. Man who only knows how to stop the flow with a mere ejaculation— But does not know how to handle the bloody truth— Still deems himself stronger, lacking information— Passing misogyny onto his youth. Man will never care of our cramping yearns to be heard, Never will he care to truly listen to our words. This is a man’s world— Where blood from war Will always mean more, Than the blood from the egg Of a child unborn. -anonymous *Please note: this article presents a cisgender-based concept of womanhood. The Siren recognizes that not all women bleed or have vaginas.
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FROM STANDOUT TO BURNOUT I sat on the hard bleachers in sweat pants and a sweatshirt representing the West Salem Titans Girls Swimming Team. I wasn’t swimming in this meet. My presence was for a worst case scenario only—if someone got hurt. I was an alternate to swim at my high school’s State Swimming Championship Meet—and it felt like shit. I recognized almost everyone’s faces. I felt anxiety grip me. I had known I’d have to face these kids if I attended the championship meet. They’d grown up since the last time we swam together and their passion still burned within them. I used to be like them... proudly marching onto the pool deck, amping myself up for the next race. My dad would sit up at the top and give me a thumbs up before each race. This was our tradition and the best good luck charm. I raced long distance and shocked the crowd, putting the pedal to the metal on the very last leg, always stealing the victory and earning first place.
Fast forward some years later and there I sat at the State Swimming Championships, feeling worthless and embarrassed. My dad wasn’t there to give me a thumbs up. I kept staring in awe at my old rivals, doubting they even recognized me. My once fit body from years of competitive swimming had turned soft. I was happy to avoid showing them what I looked like with a suit on— but deep inside me I still had the fire to compete. At fifteen years old and a freshman in high school, my self esteem was at an all time low. It had been about two years since I quit swimming at a competitive level, and no more swimming meant no more rules. I experienced my first beer, my first hit of marijuana—I even had Taco Bell for the first time. Non-swimmer Ellen finally got to be a “normal” teenager. Swimming was once second nature to me. My parents put me in swim lessons at a young age because I was full of energy, constant-
ly running around, and incapable of focusing. I also had anxiety, something I didn’t fully understand and did not feel comfortable confronting my parents about. This proved to be a huge problem later in life. At a young age I realized the benefits of hard work because I reached the advanced level of swim lessons and I loved the feeling of accomplishment. I was one step closer to swimming for a professional club, and I quickly achieved that goal. Olinger Pool had nothing more to teach me. I was ready to swim with the big dogs. Entering swim meets, things got a little different. The pressure of the sport was an unfortunate reality; coaches were no longer about fun— it was all winning and beating goal times. I loved the pressure, but was nervous when I didn’t meet those goals. Parents became overly involved in their children’s swimming careers, even yelling at them for not beating other kids. It was strange to see the sport I loved so much become so stressful. But I kept going. I remember watching someone else’s parents get in a huge fight over race outcomes and their chil-
dren crying over the terrible things said. Coaches got involved, friendships were ruined, and at the end of the day the only thing that seemed to matter anymore was winning—which we did well and often. This mindset led me to ignore the signs my body was sending me. My shoulder made an awful clicking noise every time I would lift it in a certain way. Shooting pains and numbness overwhelmed my right arm. I kept going until I psychically could not. With the advice of my coach, my mother took me to see a physical therapist, and I had to make a choice: get surgery and keep swimming at that level or quit. My parents helped me weigh the pros and cons of quitting swimming. This sport was not just about me, it was a family event. We had spent years traveling together to swim meets, bonding with other families and making close friends. Leaving this world behind was not an easy choice to make. I was terrified of surgery and wanted to experience something new. I threw away my swimming dreams. Becoming a “burnout” happened quickly and I felt bored, inactive, and lazy. My mother was the first one
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to comment on my weight gain. In Nordstrom trying on clothes for the school year, she was shocked by my inability to fit into the size zero I used to wear. She seemed disappointed, embarrassed even. I asked her how I had looked and she just frowned. I remember taking a long gaze into the mirror, studying my flabby arms, jiggly stomach, and worst of all, my thighs. The years of swimming and its effects on my body were gone—I felt like shit. My mother’s criticism of my body did not stop. I didn’t know how to fix it. I tried running, lifting weights, even going on absurd fad diets with my friends. My mother would comment on my food choices, trying to control my portions and passive-aggressively pointing out the figures of my in shape friends. She wanted me to look like them and I became extremely anxious, wearing large jackets and sweatshirts to cover up my body. I began obsessing over my image but didn’t do anything to fix it. Working out was rare, eating healthy was rare, partying and smoking with friends became more important. It was my escape from the reality of what my life had become and I completely fell into that scene. Hard.
Because I had not been swimming my anxiety took over and I only found relief in hanging with friends and spacing out for hours. It was the only time I didn’t have to think about my life choices or the disappointment my mother felt. Often times I wonder where I would be now had I not quit. I might have gone through with the surgery, recovered then excelled at the sport I loved so dearly. Instead I went down a different path. I dabbled in drugs, drinking, and general teenage misbehavior. My self loathing and self esteem were relieved by a drink or a smoke. My parents knew exactly what I was doing but hardly cared as the years went on in high school. I still competed in water polo, swim team, and got good grades, but I felt mediocre at all of those. I signed up for high school swimming mainly out of pressure from friends and the coach since they knew I had potential and probably missed the sport. I tried my best and thought it would be possible to get back to where I used to be as a successful competitive swimmer, but those days were long behind me. I never won a single race again. words by ellen bentson
VEGAN SPICE CAKE Whether you hate or love to cook we are so much more advantaged in the kitchen than cooks even 50-60 years ago! We generally have a working oven for which we do not have to chop wood, we have hot running water, and we have a grocery store around the corner... that’s even open on SUNDAY! My amazing mother and grandmother had none of these things. My mother, Ruby, was raised in the Teton Mountains in an 8X16 cabin by her single mother with four brothers and her aging grandfather; no electricity, no running water, no store around the corner...and this was in the 1940’s! Yet she always baked a treat for her family. She had to get creative as they were often without milk (the cow went dry twice a year), without eggs (hens didn’t lay in the winter), and without butter (that darn cow again). This EASY SPICE CAKE is from a handful of recipes that require no eggs, no milk, and no butter. I use it now and call it VEGAN SPICE CAKE. Just letting you know, the vegan lifestyle used to be known as The-Poor-as-Mud lifestyle.
These are truly easy and you will love, love, love them: Easy Spice Cake Sift together: 1-1/4 cups flour 1 cup brown sugar ¼ cup cornstarch 1 ts baking soda 1 ts allspice 1 ts cinnamon ½ ts cloves ½ ts salt Add: 1/3 cup oil 1Tb vinegar 1 cup cold water Mix together and pour into a greased 8x8 or 9x9 square pan. Bake at 350 degrees for 25 – 30 minutes. Will make 12 cupcakes, bake for 20 minutes. No need for frosting, when cool sprinkle with powdered sugar. recipe by the scrappy cook, perri mcgee
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YELLOW: DIGNITY & ETHNICITY “In this country American means white. Everybody else has to hyphenate” Toni Morrison. There are so many seemingly innocent yet clearly racist comments on campus. Of course there are the questions we Asians hear at least once: “What are you?” “Where are you from—but really—no but, like, where are you really from?” “Where are your ancestors from?” “What Asian are you?” It’s as if “ethnicity” is a word that no one has learned—ever. In my experience the expressions to my answer “I was born and raised in Oregon” are that of confused, impatient (usually Caucasian) people. This exemplifies the racist phenomenon Dr. Frank Wu calls “perpetual foreigner syndrome,” in which Asian Americans are assumed to be immigrants or outsiders and un-American even if their families have been in the US longer than white European immigrants. In reality, indulging their curiosity about which Asian I am usually just opens the floodgates to a second series of questions, usually involving the stereotypes associated with my Korean descent:
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alized later that it shouldn’t matter if I shuffled my feet, especially since most people—Asian or otherwise— shuffle their feet, too.
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“ Yo u must eat Kimchee all the time,” “Do you know (insert KPOP artist),” “Do you speak Korean?” or the baffling “That’s part of China, right?” My answer to all these questions is “no,” which is then followed by disappointed or baffled expressions from the listeners. Many people don’t even seem to realize how harmful these words can be. A few months ago while absent mindedly browsing Yik Yak comments, one post mentioned how it’s so “irritating that all Asians shuffle their feet when they walk.” This petty little comment was enough to make me question the way I walk in public, making me extremely and acutely aware of each time my shoes accidentally scuffed the pavement. I began purposely picking up my feet to avoid being “one of those Asians.” I re-
Similarly, conversations I’ve recently had with peers tend to move toward ethnicity and a recent study done by OK! Cupid on the desirability of races and the racial preferences of men on the site. Many of us who h a v e ex-
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modity for men to control. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not ashamed of being Korean, and I am not trying to eliminate it from my identity. I am just exhausted with the way my ethnic background is becoming an object of unending judgement. During my time at the UO, I have become more accepting of my “Asian-ness” while simultaneously becoming painfully more aware of the racism that still exists and plagues me. I can only hope that as the world progresses, we can move toward a world where we are all just humans so that people can own their own identities without being judged based on “what are you?”
ish
plored the territory of online dating have heard that Asian women are often considered the most desirable. Why? There seems to be an ongoing stereotype of Asian women being submissive, sexualized objects. Men who go after Asian women on these sites tend to have the idea that we Asian women will treat them like kings by cooking for them, cleaning their house, and getting naked on command, when in reality, we are humans who want equal rights and absolutely do not want to be treated like another com-
words by vivian kim
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THE GRASS IS GETTING GREENER I recently read an article in Women’s Adventure Magazine entitled, “What Feminism in the Outdoors Looks Like” by Jennifer Chambers. This was the magazine’s first and only article that even so much as mentions feminism. Although Chambers asserts that “the fight has been fought and won,” she describes the inequalities associated with outdoor pursuits, which proves that the battle rages on. Chambers addresses that men dominate the outdoor industry, that women fear sexual assault even in the wilderness, and women are often victim blamed if something bad happens to them. While I wouldn’t necessarily recommend this article, I won’t deny that it’s a good starting point—not only for introducing Women’s Adventure readers to feminism, but for shedding light on a feminist niche that doesn’t receive much attention. A search of “feminism media” in the University of Oregon library catalogues yields over 7,200 results,
but a search for “feminism outdoors” yields only 19. Both Chambers’s article and these search results got me thinking, what else can feminism look like in the outdoors? There are many interpretations of feminism that can be useful in thinking about making outdoor adventures better for women as well as other oppressed and marginalized identities. For starters, womanhood is just one of many identities that are discouraged from taking part in outdoor pursuits. White, middle-toupper-class, able-bodied, straight, cis women are much more likely to find inclusion in outdoor pursuits and literature than people of color, trans and LGBTQIA+ folks, the working class, and people with alternative physical and mental abilities. A variety of factors, including but not limited to womanhood, can prevent folks from accessing outdoor activities and education. As in many other realms, the intersectional nature of oppression allows for only a select group of people to feel at home in the outdoors.
For those outdoorsy feminists who have found their place, a positive next step is working actively to make outdoor pursuits a more inclusive community for people that experience all types of oppression. This effort can manifest itself in a multitude of methods: building or remodeling trails to be wheelchair-friendly, requiring outdoor store employees and trip guides to complete cultural competency training, providing transportation for inner-city families to access wilderness areas, or hosting specialized activities for marginalized identities specifically, such as hiking trips for trans women of color hiking trip. For the average day-hiker,
these suggestions might seem overwhelming. Perhaps this is more than you feel comfortable taking on. Don’t be intimidated! Even the smallest of actions can create increasingly accepting outdoor spaces. The first is simple, but powerful: be kind to all people that you encounter in the outdoors. On sight, it’s impossible to know exactly what it’s taken for each of us to get where we are. Avoid passing judgment on someone’s outdoor knowledge or ability level in relation to your own. This, in itself, can be a feminist act. When you leave civilization behind and enter the outdoors, leave your savior complex at home. Gaining a sense of accomplishment in outdoor
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settings can be incredibly empowering; regardless of whether they’re assembling a tent or climbing a mountain peak, it’s unfair to usurp another person’s autonomy. It may leave them discouraged or unaware of their full potential. Don’t steal their thunder! Of course, if someone is hurt, offer your assistance—but give it only if the injured person consents. Female outdoor enthusiasts might also take it upon themselves to get educated on ecofeminism, the philosophy that there are clear links between women’s oppression and the exploitation of the natural world. In my eyes, it’s remarkable that outdoor pursuits are often considered “male” territory, when spiritual imaginings of Earth describe it as female. I suppose that’s why conquering the natural world has become a hobby of many traditionally male cultures. In the context of outdoor pursuits, how can skills that women tend to acquire more often than men in US society, such as empathy or patience, be valuable in natural environments? Can women use their perceived proximity to nature to advance both environmentalism and feminism?
In the outdoors, feminism can manifest itself in many forms. If feminists continue to fight for equality in outdoor spaces, we can increase our own representation, as well as that of other subjugated communities. In doing so, we might gain a better understanding of— and develop a more effective response to—the many forms of oppression that render the outdoors a space for the privileged. Everyone should be able to feel comfortable and confident in the outdoors and applying our varied feminisms will help achieve that. words by rebecca falleur
BEING GAY SUCKS I do not really exist anymore. Since January, I have been at best been a simulacrum of a functioning human being - overly emotional, not emotional at all, self-destructive and so constantly anxious I devote hours of my life to wondering precisely how and why everyone hates me. I take breaks out my day to go to the bathroom so I can cry about even the simplest interactions I have with my friends and peers. Without a medium to properly convey these feelings, I take my frustrations out on myself and leave my body riddled with cuts and scabs that can speak for me instead. I have no agency over my own life, rather it is something constantly on the verge of being tipped over and vanishing, like a poorly constructed ship suddenly capsizing and plunging into the sea. I have no way to express these emotions because they are so tightly wound to the basic core of my being that they have become as normal to me as my sense
of humor or my loud personality. They are something I look at as regular, inevitable and expected, a standard part of my everyday existence. My personality has been weathered down so severely by my own mental health that I no longer exist and am only an impression, a recreation of myself, standing in my place like marble. For me, my depression and anxiety are linked most intrinsically to my queerness and marginalized identity. I am frustrated with the world and the way it treats me that my own standards of self are held to an impossibly realized gay stereotype, that I have been taught to hate my sexuality, that every interaction I have with a straight person is marred by at least some degree of their vague but clearly present discomfort. That I can never engage in the same kind of romance straight people are practically guaranteed at any party, kickback or general interaction they participate in, like sitting on my date’s lap or a quick kiss when I bring him coffee. Do you want me to
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go on? Constantly comparing yourself to the straight ideal breaks you down until you have nothing but a ferocious envy of others and a warped perception of yourself - a broken mirror where mental illness fills in the cracks and then proceeds to spread until it’s all there is. It makes you hate yourself into oblivion. Mental illness is not an anomaly for LGBTQIA+ folks - just looking at statistics, gay, lesbian and bisexual individuals are prone to experience mental disorders nearly three times more than straight people according to the National Alliance on Mental Illness. A study in the UK reported that a devastating 41% of trans individuals have attempted suicide. If we are not one of the 600 LGBTQIA+ individuals killed by straight, cis people every fifteen months, it’s not unlikely we’ll end up If you or someone you know is experiencing a mental health crisis, immediate support is available at 541-346-3227 or 911.
doing it ourselves. This violent war we are engaged in is built to wipe us out not just through opposing force, but through internalized loathing and mental illness grown from the homophobia, transphobia and hatred we are unceasingly subjected to. This is not natural. Just as queerness isn’t a mental illness, the emotional challenges we face are not innately tied to our own sexuality. Rather, our experiences in a heteronormative landscape break our mental identities into ruins where violence, exclusion, discrimination and general oppression make up the reality of our day to day lives. We can go nowhere without being reminded of our queerness - without seeing straight couples happily and, more importantly, safely expressing their love for one another or witnessing cis people easily
accessing restrooms where their safety is not once called into question. We are still taught and encouraged to hate every facet of our own identities. Whether mental health is developmental or genetic, these elements form the perfect stage for conflict with oneself that is inherently destructive to emotional well being. For me, I know my identity and the way it exists in our society are largely responsible for my continually degrading mentality. Straight spaces forge environments where queerness isn’t just rejected, it’s fashioned into a catalyst for mental illness. This culture acts as a proponent of self-doubt, self-hatred and - for many of us - severe mental illness.
cope. To even begin approaching a safe and emotionally productive realm of mental health, I attend counseling weekly and am prescribed medication I hate taking. To mend myself from the cultural and chemical virus of depression, I have to literally alter the wiring of my brain with pills every night. If not, I am even more liable to break down and potentially lose the remaining grasp I have over myself. We may have access to the right of marriage now, we may have more allies than ever, we may be at the best point of our short history but when will the culture we live in stop teaching us to hate ourselves? When will we start actively working to deconstruct our world’s aggressively straight culture so that queer folks can exist in it happily? How many more of us must lose ourselves to depression, anxiety, post traumatic stress disorder or any one of the other mental illnesses we face before someone takes notice? words by zach lusby photo by mark crossfield
And our only choice is to
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WORLD CHAMPION EATER BON APPETITE. I love buffalo wings. Bone in, boneless, spicy, hot, mild, dry rub, deep fried... Love, love, love them. Just talking about them makes me hungry. I also love hot dogs. Cheap, backyard, bbq, polish dogs, Chicago dogs, chili cheese dogs, corn dogs, mini corn dogs, cheese filled corn dogs.... I love them all. And that’s what it’s like to be bisexual. Just because I am marrying a man who was designated male at birth doesn’t mean I stopped loving buffalo wings! At any given time, day or night, I could go for either. Sexual preference is not just about body parts.
Buffalo wings smell like buffalo wings. There is nothing on earth like that scent. It lingers in your nostrils, makes your mouth water. Makes your lips tingle. A part of you is left burning long after they’re gone. You can taste traces of them on your fingertips for hours. And hot dogs... I have never tasted something so delicious that makes such a mess. Your eyes are always bigger than your mouth and no matter how full your mouth is, you always want more. I’m not just straight because I have a husband and I’m not just gay because I love the taste of buffalo wings. Nothing in life is so inflexible, so why would our sexual proclivities be?
WHERE IT ALL STARTED FOR DR. BAYLA OSTRACH
Dr. Bayla Ostrach’s career path all started with a part-time job she took as a bilingual medical assistant for the All Women’s Health Services clinic in Eugene, Oregon while she was a student. She had always been a feminist and social activist, but it was at this clinic that her passion for women’s health care and global healthcare systems became her life’s work. Ostrach says, “I didn’t understand the power and importance of full feminist health care and reproductive justice until I worked with the people in this clinic.” All Women’s Health Services in Eugene, Oregon, started in the early nineties primarily to provide high quality, supportive care for women seeking reproductive health care options, primarily abortions. Clinics like All Women’s Health Services were products of the 1970’s Women’s Health Movement, an activist movement empowering women to take a participatory and informed role in their own health care. Bayla describes the clinic as a learning, supportive environment that led to her graduate work and research in medical anthropology focusing on women’s access to care. THE END OF AN ERA The All Women’s Health Services closed abruptly in 2002, leaving the staff scrambling to maintain services and options for women needing reproductive health care options. Ostrach says that one of her proudest achievements was helping create the Network for Reproductive Options (NRO) out of the ashes of the All Women’s Health Services. The
NRO is a Northwest based referral service for women seeking abortion services. She still volunteers with NRO as a Spanish speaking call-taker. Ostrach talks about the increasing need for the services of the NRO, and organizations like it since “access to abortion is declining and restrictions to abortion services are increasing the NRO is receiving referral calls from areas even outside the Northwest.” WE HAVE COME SO FAR, WHAT ARE WE LOSING? Ostrach says discussions about abortions have gone from, “How can we make this a compassionate and comforting procedure for women making this difficult decision” to “How does a woman even find a clinic, take the time off work, get through the insurance process, travel to where the
procedure can be done, have the ultrasound and then participate in the abortion education, all prior to the procedure.” “The energy and focus needed to ensure basic access to these services keeps us from progressing into other areas of women’s issues; respectful medical care for queer and transfolk, access to affordable child care, birthing rights, child and family rights, and personal safety rights.” Ostrach is also concerned that these attacks on reproductive issues “keep social activists and feminists fragmented, we are working against the attacks on individual social justice issues and are finding it difficult to unify and work on the bigger issue of ending all systems of oppression.” She stated that this fragmentation is what is needed for continued oppression and plays into the hands of those working to keep these systems of oppression in place; a scenario of divide and conquer. Yet when we are focused on what we are losing in the fight for respectful and accessible abortion care, what other health care issues are we ignoring? Ostrach says that as a queer identified woman working at the All Women’s Health
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Clinic she has seen the frustration of queer and transfolks seeking relevant medical care and how it is apparent that there needs to be more inclusive medical training and services for all. She asks the questions, “How do you find reproductive health care when you are a lesbian and doctors and clinics are trained to give you in-depth birth control education? You aren’t having the kind of sex that makes that relevant, how do you find understanding providers? How do you find compassionate care when you are a trans identified male that needs an abortion?” She says these are important issues that need to be actively addressed, as well. WHAT CAN WE DO NOW? Ostrach offered advice for those working in or who are passionate about social justice issues, “We need another feminist movement. We need to bring to light why we need feminism, why we need social justice. We cannot sit back on the work done previously and not expect to lose what we have gained. We need to fight statements like, ‘feminism is no longer relevant.’” Ostrach believes that all focused issue-based work is important to combat harmful legislative proposals, new restrictions designed to limit care, and attacks on marginalized groups, but states that
we must avoid tunnel vision and fragmentation. Her ultimate advice to feminists and social justice activists is to, “stay active, stay in view, work together, as ALL activists are part of the same fight to end oppression of ALL people.” Dr. Bayla Ostrach has a Bachelor’s in English Literature from the University of Oregon, Master’s Degree in Applied Medical Anthropology from Oregon State University, and a PhD in Applied Medical Anthropology from the University of Connecticut. Dr. Ostrach is an adjunct faculty member at Boston University Medical School teaching medical anthropology and reproductive anthropology. words by perri mcgee
WHITE ALLYSHIP Being an ally requires work, but it’s far easier than being a target of institutionalized oppression. The following is a list of simple, yet effective methods through which White people (and others in positions of power and privilege) can practice allyship and intersectional feminism, both online and in the real world. 1. Get out of the “White Savior” mindset. Folks with the “white savior” mindset often come in with their ideas of how to change things and become angry when communities of color are not willing to be lead or find these helpful. It is insulting as an outsider to assume that you know more about the community needs than the community does. To be an ally you must ask how the community wants to address the issue and put your efforts in that direction. People who experience oppression(s) are not your charity cases, your damsels in distress, or your hobbies. As an ally, it is not your job to “fix” the problems that marginalized groups face. All too often, privileged al-
lies fail to grasp the deeper structural issues that oppress some individuals and leave others, like themselves, untouched. Don’t make allyship about you. Instead, ask marginalized individuals how they could use your help, and work to create an equal playing field on which people of all backgrounds can collaborate. 2. Use your privilege to elevate the experiences of marginalized individuals and groups, rather than speaking over them. You may not have asked for the privilege you were born into, but that doesn’t mean you can deny it exists. When participating in social justice discourse, ask yourself, “Does what I am about to say represent a positive and/or constructive use of my privilege?” Always use your privilege to interrupt problematic behavior. Monitor your own speaking time and assist others of privilege in doing the same. Notice how many times you speak in relation to marginalized people. Speak up when you hear something hurtful,
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but never speak for a marginalized individual, and remember to call people in and include them in the discourse, rather than calling them out for the sake of shaming them. 3. Acknowledge the fact that your experiences are not universal. Just because you might have experienced some form of oppression it doesn’t mean that you can’t also benefit from unearned privilege as well Take any opportunity that arises to listen to the stories, experiences, and ideas of those who HAVE experienced oppression firsthand. Go to the library, read think pieces online, and try to see as many relevant speakers who come to campus as possible. Marginalized people are not walking encyclopedias on oppression; it is your
responsibility to educate yourself. 4. Move beyond White Guilt. Audre Lorde wrote, “If [guilt] leads to change then it can be useful, since it is then no longer guilt but the beginning of knowledge.” In an effort to disassociate themselves from this country’s history of slavery and colonization, many White people express their remorse, rather than taking action. By indulging in these feelings of guilt, they make the situation about themselves.In order to engage in real allyship, White people must acknowledge these atrocities and do their part in dismantling the institutionalization of oppressive thought systems. Guilt, if not accompanied by action, does nothing!
5. Instead of seeking commonalities, learn to embrace differences. Maria Lugones writes on the perceived “need” for a universal (read: English) language, which only serves to transform complex cultural experiences into watered-down, White-friendly versions. Instead of looking for what makes oppressed individuals similar to you, think about what makes them unique. We need to create spaces where we can celebrate differences, rather than erasing them by forcing people of color to assimilate to white culture as a show of “equality.”
emergency situations, it is equally important for White allies to be proactive in their own communities in everyday situations. Racism constantly permeates the structures of our society, so recognizing and taking action against it is always appropriate. People of color are not completely responsible for shouldering the burden of dismantling the white supremacy. As an ally, it’s okay to trip up and make mistakes, but it’s imperative that you learn from them and change your actions for the future. White folks often become frustrated when they don’t perceive results. People of color have struggled tirelessly against racism since it’s inception. White people need to learn endurance; transformation of an ancient system of oppression won’t happen overnight, but it is imperative for allies to keep working. Change begins with the individual, and you will be part of what turns the tide one day. words by alana green photo by All-Nite Images
6. Everyday Allyship Besides working in solidarity and doing work with marginalized groups during
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WHITE BOY
White Boy, What do you think of yourself When you think of me? Do you consider yourself progressive? Impressive? Festishist? Do you tell yourself that you don’t see color or, “Black girls do it better”? Maybe you don’t think about it all Maybe I need to “stop making everything about race” But then, What if I like to be dominated? How will that look if you tie me up? Whip me? If I let you, “hit it from the back” am I sending my people back?
I don’t mean to shove my ideas down your throat but, What does it mean if I get on my knees for you? What do you think of reverse cowgirl, What do you think of reverse racism? White Boy, Don’t ask me if you “size up.” White Boy, Does my hair afterwards Remind you of tumbleweed, Rolling across the west like manifest destiny, After you manifested inside of me? White Boy, We could make some really cute mixed babies, Black but not TOO black, Like the girls in the Target ads. People use interracial love is a solution but, White Boy, This merits a discussion. Madison Wiegand Brown words by madison wiegand brown
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