fMichael has 4 post(s)

When analyzing bell hooks’s “Eating the other,” at first, I thought the identity of the specter of the “other” was obvious: it was anyone who doesn’t conform to the ideals of straight white heteropatriarchy—from the unfortunate Native American girl who had to fend off the advances of those blond white jocks on Page 368 to the queer, brown English major writing this essay. However, as hooks advances her discourse on the “consumption” of the other, I felt as if I was slowly but surely gaining insight into her interpretation of “consumption.” In this case, the other is exotified and seen as something beautiful and glorious to behold, something to be appreciated and observed, something to be immersed into and commodified for the sake of its foreignness compared to the heteropatriarchal white norm—which is a vast difference from the colonialist structures that sought to subdue the other in the name of religious or racial domination. Rather than destroy us or change us into their image, the “non-other” (a.k.a. the white man) wishes to commodify and consume us for the following: 1) to cross an “imaginary boundary into an exotic land” by interacting with our non-whiteness to come out the other side “changed” by the experience 2) to, as hooks says on page 380, be offered up and consumed to add flavor to the mayonnaise-laden palate of white mediocrity and 3) to strip our cultural artifacts of their meanings, both ethnically and politically significant, in the name of perpetuating hegemonic white dominance.

That being said, why does hooks call this interaction of “non-other” to “other” productive? I believe it is because within this modern context of multiculturalism and openness to other identities, that otherness is no longer seen as a deviant identity but as something to be explored and connected with, which flies directly in the face of hegemonic white patriarchal dominance. That being said, those of the dominant group (a.k.a. yet again, white people) or anyone outside of a given group should tread carefully and realize that cultural exploration can easily be transformed into cultural appropriation without intentionality and a willingness to listen to others within the non-dominant group.

When considering the treatment of gender and sexuality at River High, Pascoe’s observations made clear that a specific, heteronormative take on gender and sexuality was heavily prioritized and both implicitly and explicitly encouraged by its teachers and staff. For example, let’s examine the school’s treatment of homosexuality: the use of the word “fag” among male students was rampant within the school, Pascoe even going so far as to say that for every time “slut,” the female equivalent, was used, “fag” was said at least eight times. Male teachers did nothing to discourage the use of this epithet and also participated in behavior that could be construed as advancing heteronormative behavior, as Pascoe points out in an interaction with Mr. Ford and Mr. Kellogg about Huey, in which Huey flipped Mr. Ford off and Mr. Ford told him he shouldn’t be doing that to him but to girls. Such behavior, at least of a potentially homophobic nature, was only expressly called out by the Mr. McNally, the drama teacher, but even then, as Pascoe points out, his jokingly hitting on one of his male students created this impression of a dichotomy in which homosexual men are something to be laughed at or ridiculed. We can also see this institutional homophobia in the school’s reluctance to allow a Gay-Straight Alliance at school, despite its allowance for a White Heritage Club.

Going further, the school’s treatment of Ricky also sheds light on their take on homosexuality. Ricky was flamboyant in displaying his homosexuality and was essentially River High’s living, breathing manifestation of a “fag.” As a result, he was subject to intense harassment if not outright violence from other male students, but the school never did anything to protect him. The only instance in which the school administration punished students for negative behavior related to homophobia was when Kevin called out the wrestling team for wearing “faggot outfits,” and the school administration expelled him, which Pascoe indicated was a result of a heavier policing of black students’ behavior, which, in turn was a result of black male students’ being seen as hypersexual due to racial stereotypes.

When dealing with Jennifer Morgan’s ideas in the first chapter of Laboring Women, I found it both incredibly jarring and enlightening to grapple with firsthand ideas of post-1300’s colonialism and racism. Studying the theoretical principles behind these ideas was one thing—especially when dealt with through the arguably “diluting” lens of political correctness that permeates contemporary American culture in addition to my own experiences as a cisgender Filipino American male who has lived in communities with others like myself for most of my life. But to deal with the startlingly raw and unabashed racism that is interwoven into these seemingly “benign” portraits of the “New World”1 gave me new insight into what it must be like to live as someone whose otherness is a more intrinsic aspect of their existence in today’s violently prejudiced world.

I found most startling was Morgan’s discussion on the “discursive place of black women” (14-15), in which she explains how black female bodies were at first exotified and capable of evoking desire then almost simultaneously vilified and used as proof that their respective peoples were uncivilized and monstrous. This incongruity highlights how essential the conception of “otherness” (as we understand it today) was essential to the construction of Western European supremacy (and what would inevitably become white supremacy). For it was in the creation of the savage that “civilized society” came into being, in the realization of the “monstrous” that their subjugation and enslavement became justifiable, in the vilification and dehumanization of the black body that anything associated with Western European culture, ideas, and mannerisms—or “whiteness” in general—became superior.

When considering these ideas and their contemporary anti-theses—the disproving of racial eugenics as pseudo-science, that humans are one of the most genetically similar species on the planet, and that whiteness should not persist as the be-all and end-all of anything associated with superiority—the question I would have liked to ask is by what logic and by what utter lack of sense are these ideas of racial superiority allowed to persist? Why and how are these relatively young ideas of racial hegemony so utterly ingrained into our collective psyches? And what can we do to unlearn and help others unlearn this vast colonization of our cultures and our minds?

In Chapter 3 of Women, Race & Class, Angela Davis makes special note of Frederick Douglass’s participation in galvanizing support for women’s suffrage within the fledgling women’s rights movement. While Douglass stood at the forefront of the Black Liberation Movement as a skilled orator and figure of renown and distinction, Douglass’s initial reluctance to support the cause of women’s suffrage—as demonstrated by the quote in which he cites “ ‘custom,’ ‘natural division of duties,’ [and the] ‘indelicacy of women taking part in politics’ ” as his “shallow plea” against the cause (Davis 54)—forces us to reconsider the sweeping assumption that the separate movements that pushed for a greater sense of equality within our country—such as abolitionism, black liberation, women’s liberation—always perceived solidarity and, in effect, each other as instrumental to the other’s liberation when oftentimes, the opposite was true.

While Douglass later defended that women’s suffrage was essential and necessary, his opinion was held only by a small yet vocal minority when considered within the larger consciousness of the white, upper-class women’s liberation movement. Such sentiments were echoed even at the Seneca Falls Convention, which we as Americans tend to consider the birthplace of women’s liberation in general. And perhaps most tellingly, although members of the Black Liberation Movement were among the first to voice their support for women’s suffrage, no evidence of a reciprocal solidarity was found within the women’s liberation movement, essentially shutting black women and even working class white women out of the conversation, at least based on the narrative Davis puts forward.

Bearing this in mind, I feel that, especially considering the social context of the 1970’s in which Davis created this text, Davis is presenting us with this narrative on the interaction of race, gender, and class to force a greater critical analysis on the ideologies of liberation movements and to remind us that short-sightedness, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness are not just follies of those who stand on the “wrong side of history” but that such fallacies are inherent even within those who agitate for greater social good.