In defense of the sanctimonious women's studies set || First feminist blog on the internet

On identification…

Who are you?

When people ask you that question, how do you reply?  When you are asked to write a self-bio, or someone does one for you, what is your identity?  What words do you use to describe yourself?  You are often only offered a few in order to give the world a glimpse of the vast, huge, complex thing you are.  Who are you?  What do you say?

Are you a WoC?  A feminist?  An anti-capitalist? An academic? Are you a lesbian, or poly, or bi-curious?  Do you practice or ID with a religion, or a culture?  Are you a doctor, a lawyer, a lover, a mother?  Are you a pacifist, a vegan, a democrat?  Are you a woman, a man?  An athlete, an artist, a thinker, a doer? 

Who are you, and how do you identify?  How does that differ from how others identify you?  What goes into what you share with people about who you are…and are you most known for what you’re most proud of?  Does part of your ID rub you the wrong way?

As you can see, I’m back/still here for another week.  I’m Renegade Evolution (Ren for short, of course).  I’m a sex worker, a sex worker rights activist- and yeah, that is what I am probably best known for.  I’m also an Eurasian mutt (ethnically, heavy on the Slavic), a history and sports fanatic, really short, a Jew (non-practicing), a writer, artist, a swinger, and gamer geek…oh yeah, and one of those dreaded libertarians (please do not throw bricks at my head).  And I like to play poker.  But those things come secondary to the first two I mentioned.  It’s odd, for a long time I made a big point of saying “I am more than my job”…and I am, but wow, has it come to play a really important role in the whole of my life and how I ID.  Funny that!

Who are you? And how much does that matter?

Allow Me to (Re) Introduce Myself

What’s up, Feministe?
My name is Latoya Peterson, and I am the editrix of Racialicious.com, a blog about the intersection of race and pop culture.

I’ve also been known to write on video games every now and again for Cerise and contribute to Clutch Magazine whenever I can catch a breath.

Earlier this year, I had a major crisis regarding my understanding of feminism, where I wasn’t sure if I wanted to continue to embrace this label. I wrote about it in the context of anti-click moments (when one realizes feminism was not necessarily made with them in mind), whether or not feminism has to address race, who we think we are fighting for (or struggling with, as one of my commenters pointed out), choosing to identify as a hip-hop feminist, and on and on.

So, that leads me to why I am blogging here. When I got an email from Jill asking if I wanted to be a guest blogger for the summer, I was both excited and apprehensive.

Read More…Read More…

Psst…wanna hear what some sex workers are saying?

Yes?  COOL.  Then let me point you in a few directions, first off, we have interviews with sex workers done by SerpentLibertine of Red Light District Chicago at the Desiree Allience Conference…so take a gander at…

Robyn Few

Amanda Brooks

Goddess Diana

Carol Leigh (she discusses licensing and health checks, feminism and whore-phobia even!)

Yours Truly  (i am sooo sexy, with my sweaty self and bandaged up burns, no?)

The wrap up video…

Then, go and read about Mariko Passion’s (blog contains brief nudity) Experiences in a legal NV Brothel, and Amanda’s as well. 

You’re going to see/read some variety here, from a spiritual tantric provider to a savvy businesswoman to good ole’ mercenary me, women speaking out, WoC and white, of all shapes, sizes, ages and appearances…from various backgrounds and towns.  Is it fully comprehensive?  Hell, would we even all agree on a lot of things? Nah…but it’s something.  Enjoy and ponder.

Thanks for the Memories

I have had a marvelous time posting here this week. Thank you so much for the engaging discussions. I’m really thankful that the wonderful folks at Feministe provided me with this opportunity to talk about a lot of issues that I think are rarely addressed outside of people of color and people with disabilities communities. I really hope that you all will feel free to visit me over at My Private Casbah and check out what else I have to say about these topics. I’d love to hear from y’all. Before I go, I hope you’ll check out this very special message I left for you on YouTube.

Just For You

Take Care!

Disability Culture: Defining Our Lives

In the comments of another post that I wrote a few days ago, a few people questioned the idea that Elizabeth Edwards’ cancer is incurable but not terminal. Different authorities were cited and used as the basis for how the commenters defined what conditions should rightly be called “terminal”. Some appealed to legal definitions of it. Others saw doctors as the experts on this topic. Really, this is nothing new. It’s an issue that PWD (people with disabilities) have been speaking out about for many, many years.

Why is it those who do not have the condition are considered the experts on how it should be viewed? Sure, I can accept the fact that doctors are experts on how to treat diseases like cancer. However, does that make them qualified to determine how diseases should be viewed? I’m not so sure about that. Instead, I wish people would consider the fact that PWD are perfectly capable of deciding how they should view what’s going on with their body. It’s more than a little bit paternalistic to try to make that decision for us.

It seems that non-disabled people sometimes have a hard time understanding that disability is cultural, not medical. What is seen as a terminal illness to some certainly isn’t to others. For example, let’s say the average lifespan for an individual in a particular place is 50 years old and the patient is already 50 years old, should we call a disease that is likely to kill them within ten years one “chronic” or “terminal”? After all, we all die of something. Should we call whatever might kill us (e.g. diabetes, pneumonia) “terminal”? Why are the lives of people with cancers like the ones Elizabeth Edwards and I have described as terminal when others are not even though they may all result in death eventually.

The truth is, there’s a whole lot of room between incurable and terminal and that gap is only widening as I’ve experienced first hand. For many people, cancer is quite manageable even when no cure can be expected. Because so much of medicine is focused on curing people, when a patient has conditions that can’t be wiped out, it’s often viewed as a failure. However, there’s no reason why our lives should be measured according to the lives of others for several reasons. What’s considered a normal lifespan has varied through the ages and still varies throughout the earth. But who decides what’s normal? In an ablist system, what’s normal will almost always be defined as that which meets up with non-disabled people’s lives.

Thanks, and Farewell!

Today marks the end of my guest-blogging stint here at Feministe. 

It’s been thought-provoking and challenging for me (good things, in my book!), and I’m grateful for all of your ideas and energy. Thanks again to Jill for inviting me to spend some time here. I’ll stick around in the comments, and you can find me at my regular media homes:

in print, make/shift

online, The Bilerico Project

Farewell, and thanks,

Jess

Bodily Autonomy:Jehovah’s Witness Teens and Blood Transfusions

Lately, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about bodily autonomy. It seems to me that when feminists discuss this issue it is usually with regards to reproductive justice. However, I’ve got something different in mind right now and I’m hoping that others could give me some input on it.

As a member of disability culture, I have witnessed how those within my community are particularly susceptible to having our wishes ignored even when we are able to express ourselves quite clearly. I’m not just referring to those situations that happen during our day to day lives. It’s really aggravating to hear about how often non-disabled people feel free to just grab someone’s wheelchair and move it without even asking for permission from the person sitting in the chair. Things much worse than this occur inside of hospitals all the time. Medical professionals sometimes exhibit the same ablism I’ve witnessed in public. Given this environment, I’m loathe to say that doctors should be given permission to over-ride a patient’s stated will. However, I am beginning to think that my view may need to be reassessed.

When it comes to abortion, my feeling is that teenagers want them should be able to have them. I don’t think we need the state deciding whether or not a person should continue a pregnancy. For me, it’s really cut and dry. However, should this apply to all medical decisions that a teenager wants to make?

Read More…Read More…

Why I Hate Teach for America

Like many English majors who have reached their senior year of college and are unsure of what kind of job they can get with that specialized B.A. in interwar period lesbian literature, five years ago I applied to both Teach for America (TFA) and the New York City Teaching Fellows (NYCTF). I was promptly rejected by both, but applied to NYCTF again the following year, this time checking the “yes, I would be interested in teaching education” and “yes, I would be interested in teaching mathematics even though I did not major in it” boxes.

Like magic, I was accepted into NYCTF’s “math immersion program,” which provided me with a whole two weeks of extra training in math before the seven weeks of “pre-service training” that all Teaching Fellows go through before the first day of school, and in September of 2005 I began my career as a high school math teacher. As a NYC Teaching Fellow I had to earn a masters degree in math education by attending night classes two to four times a week and during the summer. The cost of this degree was automatically deducted from my pay-check every two weeks and was then partially reimbursed by a $4725 Americorp grant (which, to my knowledge, is not a given for every cohort of Teaching Fellows, but was specific to certain cohorts).

At my school, a small public high school in Brooklyn, New York, well over half of the teachers at the school are Teaching Fellows, and, at least in the three years I have been at the school, the longest any of us has stayed (yet) is three years. A few of us are starting our fourth.

And this sucks for our students. I mean, it really, really sucks. It sucks to come back to school and have to have yet another first-year-teacher as a teacher. It sucks to have six different advisory teachers in four years (the case with my old advisory). It sucks to have no continuity from year to year. It sucks for the ninth grade math teacher you really liked to disappear by the time you are in eleventh grade and wanted to ask for some extra help before the PSATs. It sucks to slowly get the impression that teaching anywhere else, or doing anything else for a job is better than staying here and working with you. It sucks to get abandoned year after year after year by young, enthusiastic teachers who saw teaching in the inner city as something great to put on that law school application.

And I know that my generation (I’m 27) is very different from my parents’ generation, where, if you could, you stayed at the same company, the same firm, the same factory, for 30 years, and when you retired you got a gold watch and a pension. We are a generation of career changers. It’s normal to jump from one job to another these days. For one, the economy sometimes forces us to. Also, a lot of professional graduate programs (law schools and medical schools) like candidates that have some work experience, that are not straight out of undergraduate programs. Besides, we pride ourselves on being ecclectic, on having a wide range of experiences. We proudly put our Peace Corp experience on our resume.

But teaching is one of those careers that doesn’t lend itself to career switching. It’s one of those careers where the longer you do it, the better you get at it (though I’m sure there are limits to this, depending on the person). And, unlike, say, a job as a copy-editor or an architect or an art dealer, when you are a teacher it really matters that you be good at what you do, since there is no one to catch and correct your mistakes before they’ve poisoned your students’ learning experiences in some way or another. If it is your job to make sure that a bunch of six year olds learn basic reading skills, and you fail, you may have just seriously fucked some six year olds. Maybe most of them will catch up in the second grade, but maybe some wont (especially if their second grade teacher is also straight out of the pre-service training…). If it is your job to make sure a bunch of 19 year olds understand basic math concepts well enough to pass a high school exit exam, and you fail, some of those students might never go back and graduate.

I’m not saying any of this to overstate the importance of teachers in the lives or their students or to freakout any first, second, third, or fourth year teachers about their individual failures (myself, obviously, included). Every new (and veteran) teacher is allowed to make mistakes. Further, I’m not saying that teachers are obligated to stay forever in shitty work environments with principals and administration that treat them badly, or in careers that they don’t find satisfying. What I’m getting at is that there is something wrong with a system that floods poorly performing schools with inexperienced teachers who leave just as they are becoming experienced teachers.

Which is why I hate Teach for America.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a big fan of the New York City Teaching Fellows either. I’m not defending NYCTF for it’s faults, which include provided precious little support and training for their new teachers as well as frightenly high turnover rates. According to a 2007 Village Voice article, by their fifth year teaching, less than fifty percent of Teaching Fellows remain from a given cohort. But at least in NYCTF the high turnover rate is seen as a failure. In TFA, the high turnover rate is designed as part of the program. TFA members are expected to leave teaching after their two-year commitment is up, those who continue to teach are seen as the exception.

TFA members are not required by Teach for America to pursue a masters in education (which, especially if you do not have an undergraduate degree in education is required to become permanently certified in most states), although some of the states where TFA has program sites require teachers to at least begin taking graduate courses as part of their alternative certification requirements. They don’t require teachers to take the steps to become permanently certified because there is no expectation that their teachers will stay in teaching once their two-year resume-building experience is over. How do I know? Because it’s on their website!

Educational inequality is our nation’s greatest injustice. You can change this.

The first three drop down tags at the top of the TFA website read, “What We Do,” “The Core Experience,” “After the Corps.” Teaching is not a career for this organization, it is an “experience.” You can write about it in your annual Christmas letter and show up your cousins who went straight to law school instead of differing for two years to work in the inner city. You now have some “cred” when talking about why No Child Left Behind sucks. Oh, and, of course, you can put it on your resume.

And TFA will help you make that resume! Just check out the “After the Corps” section of their website. It’s chock full of career services and options of what you can do after you’ve gotten tired of “closing the education gap.” They even have partnerships with various employers such as Morgan Stanley, Deloitte, JP Morgan, and Lehman Brothers, all of which allow TFA members to defer their high paying jobs as management consultants and financial analysts to teach for two years in the trenches of underachieving schools.

Still not convinced? Listen to how much those two years of teaching forever changed this TFA alumnus:

Looking back, I’m so glad I chose to teach before embarking on this next phase of my career. I developed skills that empowered me to excel beyond my peers in business school: organization, effective time management, dexterity in communication and public speaking, and the ability to think on my feet. The responsibilities I shouldered in the classroom prepared me like nothing else could for the challenges of management, communication, and intense focus that characterize my current position, where I conduct industry research, create financial models, identify industry trends, and explain their implications.

-Scott, an analyst at Lehman Brothers

Isn’t that beautiful? Isn’t that what teaching is all about? Becoming a better financial analyst?

Let’s hear what Mitch, an assistant professor of biology, has to say about his “corps experience”:

In addition to these professional lessons, my two years as a corps member had a deep emotional impact on me. I experienced how a group of dedicated teachers committed to the success of their students can go a long way towards closing the achievement gap.

I’m sorry, but I just can’t accept this. Remember high school? It took most of us about four years, right? My point is that two years is a short time to be a teacher, to be part of a school community, to be a part of students’ lives. And as someone who has been at the same school for three years so far, I can guarantee that two years is not enough time to “go a long way towards closing the achievement gap,” no matter how dedicated the teachers are.

(As an aside, for a really smart article about why the Freedom Writers myth that all schools need is highly motivated teachers who are willing to martyr themselves for their students, check out this January, 2007 New York Times opinion piece, “Classroom Distinctions” by Tom Moore. The crux of it is here: Every day teachers are blamed for what the system they’re just a part of doesn’t provide: safe, adequately staffed schools with the highest expectations for all students. But that’s not something one maverick teacher, no matter how idealistic, perky or self-sacrificing, can accomplish.)

I started thinking about Teach for American after reading this article in the New York Times Magazine about rebuilding the New Orleans public school system. Although the article focuses on the proposed effects of structural changes that are being made in the way the school district is governed (with a shift toward privately run charter schools instead of a more centralized, top down school system), I couldn’t help but notice this casual sentence (amid other descriptions of preparations that are underway for the new school year): Two hundred and fifty Teach for America teachers, nearly all recent college graduates, had just arrived to complete preparations for their new positions in schools in the region. What struck me was how, this article, which discusses various strategies for rebuilding a failing school system and repeatedly reminds us how nothing can be fixed overnight, fails to address the inherant contradiction implied by inviting a huge number of teachers, the overwhelming majority of whom won’t be around in two years.

Where will those teachers be? According to TFA’s website, they will be fighting for educational equality from all sectors. Maybe one of the many TFA members that go to law school will one day sue the NYC public school system for not adequately serving its special education students. Maybe one of the post-TFA financial analysts at Deloitte will sway her boss to donate 100 computers to a school with no technology program. (My school, for the record, received such a donation through a partnership with a major financial company.) This is part of TFA’s strategy, and it is an interesting one. It’s very possible that some of those 250 two-year teachers will make major changes in the realm of education from outside the field.

But, in the meantime, those New Orleans students will be left with new teachers year after year, rolling their eyes as they watch 22 year old Brown-graduates try to keep it cool in front of a classroom of suspicious adolescents.

Is an enthusiastic, idealistic teacher better than a burnt-out teacher? A teacher who reads the newspaper in the front of the classroom? (Yes, this happens.) A racist teacher? Of course. I have seen first hand what those teachers have done at my school in two or three years, the way they have contributed to make the school run better, to make the school a more positive place in different ways.

And let me be clear. I’m not ragging on people who leave the teaching profession. It’s a difficult and often underpaid profession. I’m not ragging on people who apply to Teach for America because they genuinely want to improve education in this country. It’s a very noble and challenging calling, and I have respect for all teachers who are working hard within a fucked-up system. I don’t doubt that most of them felt very conflicted about leaving their schools and their students.

What I’m ragging on is the way Teach for American sends the message that it’s perfectly acceptable to teach the neediest students for two years and then leave, just when you’re reaching your stride, just when you can really start to become more effective.

So, I’ll leave with this, if you’re thinking of applying to Teach for America because you want to be a career teacher, don’t. There are many other alternative-certification programs that will help you get a masters degree (and will help you pay for it). And if you’re thinking of applying to Teach for America because you are interested in doing a service project for two years before starting a different career, don’t. There are many other Americorp-type programs that lend themselves better to that time of time-frame.

In low-income schools, what a lot of students are lacking is consistancy in many areas of their lives (financial insecurity, eviction, incarceration of friends, neighbors, and family members, shitty medical and dental care, reliable transportation, etc.). The least they could have is the knowledge that they will see the same teachers’ faces in the hallways in September that they saw in June.

So Long from South Dakota and Thank you!

Two weeks fly by when you’re working on a campaign.  The same applies when you get the amazing opportunity to be a guest blogger on a site like Feministe.

For my last post, I just want to thank everyone for tuning into what’s going on here in South Dakota.  It is truly scary.  But, I am confident that the voters of this state will standup once again and reject this ridiculous ban.

The organizing staff and volunteers here on the ground are doing a great job getting the message out that this ban is not one with so called “exceptions.”  Instead, it is a sweeping ban that will recklessly endanger women’s health.

In case you’re interested in checking in with us from time to time, I’ll include a shameless plug for both my employers:  Planned Parenthood and the Campaign for Healthy Families.  Please stop by, and leave your comments.  We love to hear that we have support all around us. 

I hope I have an opportunity to do this again some day.  Until then, thank you for reading and for sharing your comments.

I’ve had a blast!

Vote NO on 11!

Joe Biden

So Obama picked Joe Biden to be his vice-presidential running mate.

Going over a quick review of Biden’s positions, I’m not devastated but not thrilled either. There’s a lot of really troubling things in there — like his support for the Partial Birth Abortion Act, his support for abstinence-only education, and his immigration policy including support for the wall along the border (though it seems like unfortunately Obama supports that wall, too). Of course, there’s also his history of saying, um, racist and otherwise really stupid things — which may just be my biggest problem with him overall.

That being said, I understand the pick. He’s older, has lots of foreign policy experience, a long political career, and was born in a swing state where he apparently maintains a good presence.  The good news is that he seems to have a very strong track record on violence against women, and on global warming.  That’s important.  And though I’m still not sure that this is the right way to judge the pick, he is a million times better than Kaine.

Those are my very general and preliminary musings.  But I’m sure that Feministers will have lots to say on the matter, and know more about the guy than I do. So: discuss.