August 2009 – Page 3

A Comparative Free Write: The Wedding Industry vs. The Baby Industry

Lately, my thoughts have been swirling around one comparative question:

What’s worse – the wedding industry or the baby industry?

Recovering my 2004 journal, the year I was engaged, I see loopy sketches of my fiancée with the word “love” underneath and short poems exploring life and commitment. To describe my decision to marry I used phrases like “a symphony of mystery” and “frisson of pleasure.” Not too far from my blotchy sketches are wrinkled, tear-stained pages. I see I made a separate column called “hate” and I named every detail of the wedding process, the whole parade and folly of rings, illusion, disingenuous sales pitches and vendors, showers and parties, and the endless charade of enjoying it all.

[October 2004: Today I nearly passed out when trying on veils. It looked so ridiculous and false on me. The room was screeching with white-dressed bodies barking orders to whoever would listen. I had to sit down and breathe between my legs. I have to see myself when I look in the mirror. I have to see me. On my time. I have to see myself in this.]

I was never a bride.

I was just a person in love, ready to move forward.

I had choices and I did it. I got married AND had a wedding. The coming together of two radically different cultures, races, and expectations was one of the most stressful experiences of my life. Both families had religious backgrounds, so tradition had some role to play in the process and compromising on what was authentic and what was for show was a long, tedious process of discussion and frustration.

But I did it.

That transition from single to married was healthily marred with grief and mourning. Facing the profound changes in relationships, responsibility, lifestyle, and geography weren’t celebratory, they were somber and I took them seriously.

However, one of the things that that irked me the most was the response so many had when I shared I was getting married: “Oh, EVERYONE’S getting married!” That miffed me. And I would always say to my friends and confidants, “Yeah, but I’m not everybody. This is a big deal in MY life and I am trying to share this with you. This is me, not the whole world.”

In that time period of my life, I remember thinking that the blanket of the wedding industry and the superfluous toppings of details and colors erased me and my reality. It erased the very real and tangible truth that I had fallen in love and decided to commit to one person. That imminent torque in my identity was my focus. And love. Love was my primary lifeline.

It was rare to find an understanding person in those 9 months of engagement. No one likes to hear of hesitancy, fear, and doubt that can exist outside the vacuum of saying Yes to marriage. It wasn’t about the relationship I had built with him that was sturdy and grounded. It was about the internal conversion of accepting full and unpredictable responsibility that came with building a future with another person. It was about facing the fears of possible failure, adultery, death, dependency, sharing, and betrayal.

I was never a bride.

I was just an honest person, a writer.

And here I am again, faced with another 9 month transition and the roller coaster begins again.

It’s like falling in love again. My partner and I have been brought even closer because of this choice. The only time I truly feel at peace is when we lay on our sides and talk about how uncertain the future is, how our expectations are creeping in our consciousness even when we try to keep them at bay, how this person coming to us will be nothing like what we think or imagine. We laugh at our crazy inadequacies to be in control. We laugh at the idea of making a will when we don’t have much, financially or materialistically, to pass on. We struggle through naming guardians in case my partner and I die. We smoothed through bumpy parts of our interracial marriage. Now we will have an multi-cultured/-racial/-everything child.

And then there’s the baby industry and circus…Listening to advice I don’t necessarily need or want. Dealing with colors and decorating a room. Registering. Showers. Ooohing and ahhing over bellies instead of diamonds.

Within weeks of knowing I was pregnant, truckloads of magazines and websites found me despite my non-disclosing nature. The amount of THINGS I am told that I need exhausts me.

[August 2009: “A baby wipes warmer? Do I look like the type of person to warm up my own toilet paper?!”]

There was something eerily similar, I noticed, to the wedding industry.

[August 2004: “A ring is a beautiful symbol, but why an engagement ring? I’d be fine with just the wedding band.”]

A life-changing event, a shift in identity, another choice made in a hopefully egalitarian manner…and the isolation sits in.

“Oh, EVERYONE’s pregnant these days.”

“Yeah, but I’m not everybody. This is a big deal in MY life and I am trying to share this with you.”

How is it that more people are interested in what kind of crib I will need than how my writing schedule will alter? How is it that more people are interested in the date of the ultrasound that will announce gender than the date I get a nuchal translucency screening that tests for Down Syndrome? When I do articulate feelings, why are my worries and fears minimized to a scattering of pulp when I muse aloud about my career, my ability to move and travel, the unknown, unpredictable future and that, yes, I am choosing this, AND, yes, am still scared?

Why do people equate decision making with the quality of unshakeable certainty? And why do we strategize to circumvent fear? Why is it endlessly equivalent to second thoughts, wanting to retreat or rewind time?

Is it so unthinkable to posit that fear is the intuitive threshold to responsibility and acknowledging the parts of ourselves that are afraid takes more strength than pretending or that I don’t see how enormous this choice is? Could fear be reframed to be more of a guide than a disdained guest in our bodies?

Married, pregnant female seeks presence and companionship, not advice. Experienced and gentle minds to converse with and a community that loves honesty and facing unprecedented transformation are desirous. Above all, seeks wisdom, not distractions.

The Great White Hope and Lynn Jenkins (R-Topeka)

lynn Jenkins

I should really start a blog entitled dispatches from post racial America. POC are routinely told that we have come so far and that things are getting better each day. Racism is often theorized not to effect our lives to a great degree. Of course these are the pronouncements from Whiteness and their house slave henchmen.

Tim Carpenter covered her little faux pas for the Topeka-Capitol Journal:

Jenkins told people at the Hiawatha forum the nation could benefit from inspired leadership of a group of “really sharp” young Republicans in the House, particularly Rep. Eric Cantor, R-Va. Cantor was mentioned as a possible GOP vice presidential candidate in 2008 and is thought to be interested in seeking the Republican nomination for president in 2012.

“Republicans are struggling right now to find the great white hope,” Jenkins said to the crowd. “I suggest to any of you who are concerned about that, who are Republican, there are some great young Republican minds in Washington.”

Of course, she simply misspoke and did not intend to infer that Whiteness desperately needs to return to power. She meant a shining light. Isn’t that sweet everyone. Perhaps we should all ignore that the term originates from a desperate plea that Jack Johnson, the first African American heavyweight champion be defeated. It is a signal that Whiteness is meant to dominate and control every sphere of life.

We know that the Republican party represents Whiteness, under the guise of fiscal responsibility, and family values, however; since the election of Obama, they have increased their rhetoric to appeal to those that feel that they have been supplanted. Whiteness is a tool used to blind the disenfranchised to the ways in which they are oppressed by the ruling elite. Having Whiteness as a default position allows them to oppress bodies of color while ignoring the ways in which capitalism and various other systems work, to ensure that little to no positive gains are made. It is not accidental that we can trace generation of generation of families that are dependent upon welfare and those lacking the ability to achieve upward mobility despite a lifetime in the workforce.

It is a common tactic of the ruling elite to blame POC for the disparity in wealth and value, even though we socially exist with the least power. Women like Lynn Jenkins, represent the lie that if Whiteness were in power, that suffering would decrease. Until president Obama became commander in chief, every single president was White and therefore, all of the economic (think the Great Depression and inflation in the seventies) and social issues, that previously occurred, were under the headship of Whiteness, furthermore; though a Black president may be a small indication of change, it is worth noting that most positions of authority are still presided over by Whiteness.

Jenkins may back track after the fact, however; since her examples of people fit for leadership were White, her intent is quite clear. Republicans have a habit of saying obviously racist commentary, only to offer a weak apology when taken to task about their statements. The regret is false because the intent was to be racist in the first place.

POC are often accused of playing the “race card,” when we speak critically about Whiteness and yet it is Whiteness, that continually overvalues itself and seeks to ensure that race is constantly spoken about on its terms. Controlling the conversation is just one of the many ways in which Whiteness manifests its powers. Through discourse it reifies difference and makes real the illusion that Whiteness is not only to be privileged but is privilege. Whiteness is the power to act systemically to benefit those that are understood as White and oppress bodies of color and therefore the great White hope that Lynn Jenkins hopes for is omnipresent in every aspect of social organization to one who is willing to understand the way that we have structured our agents of socialization.

Cross posted from Womanist Musings

Notes on Gore

I had about half a post written about my sometime contentious relationship with veganism (I am vegan), PETA, food justice, and a whole mess of other stuff, but then Renee had to go make an excellent post about the frequent failings of PETA and too many other animal rights orgs and activists in recognizing the history of dehumanization of people of color. The comments are still going strong, and I should probably wade through them before throwing my hat in the ring of related ish.

So instead I will finish up this post about my special feelings towards Violent Movies. Specifically, GORY movies. I love them. Sometimes.

There’s a lot of talk these days on my corners of teh interwebz about Inglourious Basterds, Quentin Tarentino’s latest, an ahistorical revenge fantasy filled with Jews gorily killing Nazis. Quentin Tarantino is not Jewish, so far as I know, nor is the fictional head of the Nazi-vanquishing title outfit played by Brad Pitt. Brad Pitt is supposed to be part American Indian, however, which is why he and his Basterds like to scalp Nazis. This all rings a little…problematic to me. I’m also not here to defend the film (which I haven’t seen) or QT’s oeuvre, which is also problematic, to say the least. I am just here to discuss the fact that I find the idea of Eli Roth beating the bloody hell out of a Nazi with a baseball bat to be rather appealing. I’m planning to go see the thing–get a large popcorn and soda and (hopefully) enjoy the hell outta some air conditioning for a few hours. Setting Nazis on fire? Sounds good to me. As my internet friend Sabotabby wrote:

It’s a movie that has Brad Pitt killing a bunch of Nazis in brutal and historically improbable ways. Either you read that and go “DUDE, AWESOME” or you don’t. I think you know by now which camp I fall into.

I got into a brief discussion about “torture porn” with another internet friend earlier today, prompted by a discussion of said film. He said that it was “torture porn” and thus vile. He thought torture, and thus “torture porn”, was inexcusable. I think that torture is inexcusable. “Torture porn” is a made-up nongenre that links together often very disperit films based upon the vague idea that they eroticize or sensationalize or just depict graphic acts of torture (or other gory violence) for the audiences viewing pleasure. Everything from Hostel to Saw III (et al) to Funny Games has been widely referred to as “torture porn”, despite their widely varying intents and treatments of violence.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. Back to my defense of Inglourious Basterds against charges of evilness by virtue of being “torture porn”.

Revenge fantasies that involve oppressed people torturing their oppressors are all fine and well, So far as I’m concerned. They can be cathartic, they can be healing, they can be a lot of fun (at least for those of us who can distinguish between fantasy entertainment and reality, which hopefully those of us who are grown-ups can.) Even besides the oppressed/oppressor context—fictional graphic violence can be can be cathartic and otherwise enjoyable for a variety of people for a variety of reasons. I don’t think I’m so special a snowflake that my love of gore is wacky and subversive whereas all those other (probably dude) people are just sick. Fuck that.

I hope that most of us at Feministe are in a s/m sexually fantasies are not bad (0r good) in and of themselves. Violent movies of the thrill-ride/cathartic horror variety are a similar thing. If I hadn’t loaned my copy of Men Women and Chainsaws out and never gotten it back, I could look up some pertinent quotes. One thing I know from doing phone sex and talking to countless cis straight-identified men watching (non-torture) porn is that the subject of identification in a given text (or film) may not be the one the author(director) intended or that a critic might expect. We know what they say about making assumptions, don’t we? So I won’t judge anyone for liking “torture porn” or any other maligned violent genre in and of itself.

People across a lot of different demographics like violent movies. Not just teenage boys, or grown men who think like the stupider of them as marketers have historically led us to believe. I’ve been fascinated by gore ever since I used to sneak peeks at the boxes in the horror section of the video store when I was a little kid. I’d have nightmares. I wondered what could possibly happen in these terrifying, anything goes, sometimes X-Rated (Wizard of Gore!) monstrosities. When I was older and actually started watching “real”, adult, horror I was sorely disappointed in how…crappy and boring most of it is. But I do enjoy a good, creative bloodbath, and I don’t think the art of depicting (fictional) violence is anything to sneeze at.

So, It annoys me time and time again to read stuff like the following, from Entertainment Weekly’s cover story on the Watchmen movie:

Snyder hopes the female fans he gained from 300 (and Gerard Butler’s abs) will watch Watchmen, too, though it’s hard to imagine that they’ll be buzzing about this film in the same way. ”I think its human themes appeal to all,” says Malin Akerman, whose character Silk Spectre is a knowing commentary on the obligatory superteam-sexpot heroine. ”But I do think men will have a much easier time swallowing all the violence.”

Hi. I’m a woman. I want more violence, pls, and I don’t give a fuck about Gerald Butler or his abs.

I was thrilled a couple months later when my friends at Entertainment Weekly (I‘ve been a subscriber for, like, over a decade. They’re my friends.) ran an article about how OMG, we were all wrong! the horror movie audience is generally actually slightly more female than male (just like the population overall is slightly more female than male, but lets not push things!) Of course the article had to posit theories as to why this bizarre fact could be. Including that it (wait for it) gives them an excuse to cuddle with their boyfriends. I’m fucking barfing right now, No, I am, really. I just did it again. Also, can we just note that it’s a cliché as old as cinema itself that dudes like scary movies cuz they give them a chance to squeeze the hand of their ladydates. But these are DIFFERENT, GENDERED grabby motivations, cuz dudes are just cuddling cuz they wanna score.

In any event, I’m excited for the main subject of the above-mentioned EW article, Diablo Cody’s Jennifer’s Body. It is supposedly gory, it’s both written and directed by women (a rarity in mainstream of the genre, or in Hollywood at all,) and it’s named after my favorite song on Hole’s classic Live Through This album. So: I’m going. I have this almost charitable project going of trying to make one-sided peace with Diablo Cody, who wrote the thing. I want to support women in the film industry, I especially want to support current/former sex workers in the film industry who have written popular books, especially since one day I would like to be them. I want to be able to forgive her for subtitling her memoir Candy Girl “A Year in the Life of an Unlikely Stripper”–implication being that all those uneducated trashy stereotypes are “likely”. Unlike a witty blogstress such as herself who seems in interviews to have been more engaged with her work as an anthropology project than as a job. I hope that all those reader reviews I’ve seen on Amazon about how patronizing she is when discussing her coworkers, how above other sex workers she posits herself as being are inaccurate…because while I thought Juno was extremely overrated, I would love to have this movie actually be good! I wanna get behind the ex-stripper with the Oscar! I’m not hating!

But I am digressing.

I know I’m not the only one here who appreciates some splatter. Why do we like it? Why do you like it? And even more interesting, why do some people find it upsetting that we do?

Stephen Moyer on Vampire Sex: Masculinity in True Blood

The following quote is from Stephen Moyer AKA vampire Bill compton in the series True Blood.

Epilogue: Stephen Moyer, on Vampire Sex:
“The thing about vampirism is that it taps into a female point of view – you have an old-fashioned gentleman with manners who is a fucking killer… it’s an interesting duality, because in our present society it would be an odd thing for a woman to say, ‘I want my man to be physical with me.’ How, as a modern man, can you fucking work that? It’s one thing to be polite and gentle… But when do you know it’s OK to crawl out of the mud and rape her [as Bill does in one scene]?… It’s difficult stuff for a bloke, but a vampire gets away with it…. I think that’s the attraction of the show – it’s looking back at a romantic time when men were men, but they Oncwere still charming.”

How many think that Moyer should stick to acting, rather than attempt a clearly heterosexist, sexist, misogynist breakdown of his character Bill Compton? We know that Compton is a civil war vampire, however; that time period does not necessarily make him suddenly more respectful of women. Let us not forget, in the civil war era, women were considered to be the property of their husbands, they could not vote, did not own land and education was a rarity. We have a tendency to romanticize the past not because it harkens to a time of gentlemanly behaviour but because it normalizes the view that the patriarchal oppression of women is acceptable.

I find his claim that a woman would not tell her lover that she wants “her man to be physical with her,” to be spurious. This claim suggests that women only desire to participate in one form of sex when they have any desire at all. He further defines sex as something men do to women, rather than something that two parties actively engage in. Many women actively enjoy BDSM and are not shy in communicating that to their partners.

In terms of his commentary regarding rape, I certainly have no recollection of Bill Compton crawling out of the mud and raping Sookie. One of the things I love about their sex scenes, is that Sookie actively assents to participation and clearly is not shy about enjoying sex. It is never okay for a man to rape a woman and that he could implicitly state rape is acceptable, once again displays his desire to privilege masculinity, in his understanding of the relationship between Sookie and Bill. A woman does not consent to rape ever. The definition of rape is forcing ones self on another in a sexual manner, therefore; implicitly denying consent.

Of course, Moyer can only see the show broken down to affirm masculinity in all forms because his male privilege blinds him to the ways in which the female characters invoke their agency. In the very first episode of the show, Tara quits a job rather than deal with a racist and irritating customer. Tara further initiates a sexual relationship with Sam, after stating implicitly that this is not to involve a romantic relationship.

When Sookie and Bill get into a fight, she has no problem revoking his invitation to her home. Sookie also speaks to Eric in a tone that no one else on the show dares to and she is human. The power differential between Sookie and Eric never stops her from being upfront about her feelings, as well as slapping him when he crosses the line.

We also have Marianne, who is a very powerful being. She clearly acts of her own accord and controls those around her. We may not like her as a character but one can be certain, that Marianne does not pander to traditional views regarding femininity and sexuality.

Let us also not forget, that though we have yet to see what she is capable of, the Queen is a woman and head of all of the vampires.

True Blood works, not because it reminds of us of a time when men were men but because it walks a dangerous line forcing us to confront our own mortality. We are entranced with the thought that there are beings that might possibly escape the curse of death, that awaits for us all.

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“Are you a treasure or a target?”: More sex ed FAIL from Ohio

For some reason or another, Ohio schools seemed to be inundated with some of the worst abstinence-only-until-marriage programs in the entire country.

Ohio is the home of Elizabeth’s New Life Center, notable for employing Derek the Abstinence Clown, who comes to middle school classrooms to perform and inform kids that using condoms is like juggling machetes. Elizabeth also teaches that abortion will give you breast cancer and “post-abortion-syndrome“, a nice fallback for those unfortunate students who learned sex from a fracking clown and find themselves with a positive pregnancy test.

Ohio also has the creatively named Abstinence Till Marriage program, whose Miss the Mess website happily promoted Rape Culture, informing youth that, as Jill put it, “you can’t rape a slut” (this was before the Netroots shamed them into taking it down, fortunately).

But Ohio also has Operation Keepsake, another multi-million dollar ab-only beneficiary of our tax dollars over the past decade. (I’ll give you a hint what the “keepsake” is: it rhymes with rhymin’)

I recently ran across a quiz on their website called “Are you a treasure or a target”, aimed at young women.

Yea, I bet you see where this is going…

Below is the quiz. I bolded hypothetical answers for each question to see if I was, in fact, a “target”.

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It’s Not About Me

(originally published at Two Women Blogging)

Never assume. First rule of life. If you meet me, don’t assume that just beacuse I have a daughter, I think I’m entitled to control her body. Don’t assume that I abandoned my opposition to parental notification laws. Don’t assume that I think I will know about everything she does as a teenager. Don’t assume that my knowing is more important than her safety.

Know this instead: I want her to have what she needs. I want her to be safe, and supported, and to feel every option is open to her. Sure, I hope she comes to me if she decides to have sex; I hope to God it’s her decision, and not something that happens against her will. If asks me, I will help her find a birth control method and talk to her about protection from STIs. But if she doesn’t come to me, she still deserves to have birth control, and condoms. And if all that fails and she finds herself pregnant, she deserves to have all her choices available.

If you are an adult in my daughter’s life, know this: it’s not about me. It’s about her. If she comes to you about birth control, help her. Take her to Planned Parenthood. Give her condoms. If it means you have to take her to another state to help her get an abortion, because it’s what she needs and we live in a state with parental notification laws, then take her. Go with her, and hold her hand, and hug her afterwards, and make sure she has someone to talk to. Sure, you can tell her that she can talk to me – you can offer to help her do it. But if she doesn’t want to, if she’s scared or ashamed or just too overwhelmed, that’s OK. It’s more important that she gets what she needs than that I know about it.

I am trying to be the kind of mother she can come to, but that’s not entirely under my control. And if she can’t come to me, let her come to you, and give her what she needs. If you’re her aunt, or her teacher, or her doctor, or just a good friend, know this: it’s about her.

Eve and Her Two Mothers

Facebook brings up all sorts of etiquette issues I never would have expected. Friend your boss? Tell your cousin that the pictures of drunken revelry are upsetting the grandparents? Mention your upcoming trip to Big City even if you don’t want to see all the Big City Facebook friends while you’re there? Who knew these would be the burning questions of our day?

And who knew that I would log on one day to see my daughter’s picture in someone else’s Facebook profile?

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Another brief gripe about the dearth of accessible sex worker history

Almeda Sperry was a prostitute and anarchist writer and organizer in the early 20th century. She was a good friend of Emma Goldman. Some speculate that they were lovers. Sperry certainly wrote tormented, romantic letters to Goldman, some of which are reproduced in Gay American History, which I bought a used copy of once upon a time just because it had a short chapter on the relationship between these two women.

The thing is, I don’t care that much about the “did they or didn’t they?” angle. I’m up for some historic queer anarchist soap opera action as much as the next activist, but I’m way less interested in Almeda Sperry’s crush on Emma Goldman than I am in her work. I’m interested in her as a radical figure in ho history. Sadly, whenever I have tried to research her, all I find is stuff about her possibly romantic relationship with Goldman, analysis of that. No reproductions of her writings, no chronicles of her activism or organizing efforts. It seems like her titillating connection to Goldman is the only reason why history remembers her. It seems to be just the queer and anarchist history buffs who discuss her at all, and even they are all up on the drama angle and I find that really…depressing.

I had this idea that I could write a post about Almeda Sperry, maybe introduce those of you who aren’t familiar to someone who I think is an interesting historical figure. At least one I’m interested in. The sad thing is, I really don’t have much to share with you unless I’m gonna get into dissecting her love letters.

Here’s what I know about Almeda Sperry:

-She was born on July 13, 1879 in New Kensignton, PA

-When she was young her parents physically abused her, often in connection with trying to force her to attend church. This contributed to her dislike and distrust of organized religion.

-She began working as a prostitute at the age of 21 and continued to do so off and on for more than a decade. She did not seem to feel very positively about her work or the men who patronized her.

-She worked to establish a socialist reading room in her town, have streets paved, and bring sex education lecturers to local schools. She was also supposedly involved in union organizing, but I don’t know the specifics. By 1912 she identified politically with anarchism.

And that’s about it. All that comes from New Gay America, but if memory serves me there isn’t much more in any of the books I used to have by or about Emma Goldman that mention her. I can’t check right now cuz my Emma Goldman collection was largely lost during a bed bug infestation a couple years ago. Memories.

Anyway.

I can’t be the only person who became intrigued when I came across Sperry in my reading about early 20th century anarchism and radical politics. I wish she was written about as a part of a movement rather than as a love interest. And if some of you are like, “pshaw, there’s this great biographical sketch in _____” Or “silly rabbit, why have you not checked [blankety-blank blank]” please do share!

Six Women Murdered, Three Still Missing, and Nobody Seems to Notice

NC Women Slain

There is quite seemingly a serial killer loose in Rocky Mount, North Carolina. And if there’s not, there certainly still is a murderous epidemic. Nine women have disappeared since 2005, and six bodies have so far been found.

Since 2005, nine women who lived at the edges of the poor community in this small North Carolina city have disappeared. Six bodies were found along rural roads just a few miles outside town, most so decomposed that investigators could not tell how they died. At least one of the women was strangled, and all the deaths have been classified as homicides. Three women are still missing.

Police will not say whether they suspect a serial killer, but people in the community about 60 miles northeast of Raleigh do, and they’re impatient with law enforcement efforts to investigate the slayings.

The community in which these women all lived is apparently a poor, rural one. Many residents suffer from drug addiction, and many women sell sex to make ends meet. It’s unclear from the article whether every woman who has gone missing so far was a sex worker, but it is indicated that at least several were. Many if not all were in their 30s, 40s, or 50s. And according to both the available photographs and an article in The Loop, all were black.

Had you heard this story? Until last week, I hadn’t. Until last week, at which point more media accounts began popping up, pretty much no one outside the town had. And I do believe that I just outlined the reasons why up above.

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Are Animals and Humans the Same?

I have written repeatedly about the offensive nature of PeTA’S campaigns because I find that their approach is often dehumanizing. Much of the time, they buttress their position by saying that we are no different than animals and therefore are undeserving of special treatment. This line of thought does not solely apply to PeTA. Many animal rights groups are fond of pointing out that humans are also animals. This is a biological fact, however; using it to defend your position can be extremely problematic and it is rarely to ever acknowledged as such.

For centuries, POC have been compared to animals, as a way to dehumanize us. Telling POC that we are the same as animals cannot be taken in a positive light. We can all agree that animals deserve to be treated with respect and love. They are vulnerable and we are the top of the food chain. Very few people would openly say that they approve of cruel slaughter methods or housing them in terrible conditions. The more that we can improve conditions that animals live in the better, however; until we can get to a point where there is equality amongst the human race, demanding such equality between humans and animals is going to be an issue.

obama chimp It was just last year that Obama was depicted as a chimp in the post. A German zoo named a monkey after him. A bar decided to sell t-shirts with Obama depicted as Curious George. Not to be outdone, Former U.S. Sen. Zell Miller commented, “Rahm Emanuel needs to put “Gorilla Glue” on his chair to keep him in the Oval Office”. To ensure that Michelle Obama felt included, Rusty Pass, a state Republican activist, claimed that an escaped gorilla was an ancestor of the first lady.

Who could forget Howard Cosell with the famous quip, “Look at the little monkey run,” during a Monday night national football broadcast.

Chihuahua’s are heavily associated with Latino’s (see Beverly Hills Chihuahua, and Disney’s Oliver). Who could forget that lovely little Taco Bell dog. In fact almost every time you see a Chihuahua in the media, one can almost be certain that there will be a connection between it and Latino’s

With the rise in Islamophobia, camel jockey became a very popular slur. Often this terms competes with sand nigger, for the most derogatory term to refer to people from the Middle East.

When the largely white run animal rights groups approach people of color for support, is it any wonder that we bristle when we are once again told that we are just like animals. Whiteness can afford such a comparison because it is still the dominant and the norm. It is not reduced by such a comparison because its power has become socially entrenched and its humanity validated.

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