A bit about my comment moderation policy:
For those of you who are upset about my posts, essays, or opinions otherwise expressed, I suggest you stop visiting this blog and reading my essays where you *know* they will be posted. It is, by now, fairly obvious that I am intent on working with others of like mind to create balance of power and an equitable distribution of resources within the field where I focus my efforts (children's/YA literature), as well as anywhere else I may have influence.
If you consider my efforts against racism, sexism, homophobia, etc., to be "reverse-racist," anti-male, anti-straight, or otherwise offensive, there are numerous other forums on the internet where you will find those who share your views. Here, your comments will be deleted, often without being read.
If you are truly interested in learning, dialogue, and exchange of ideas, there is a list of required reading here.
Monday, August 31, 2009
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Greece Is the Word
Today, a message from Greece:
"hey, are you the writer who wrote shine, coconut moon? do you know if it's coming to Greece?"
I would LOVE for SHINE to come to Greece. Keep watching this blog or join the SHINE page on FB for updates. There are some coming soooon!
"hey, are you the writer who wrote shine, coconut moon? do you know if it's coming to Greece?"
I would LOVE for SHINE to come to Greece. Keep watching this blog or join the SHINE page on FB for updates. There are some coming soooon!
Friday, August 28, 2009
Dragging Butt to Finish Line
I am going to have an entire day to myself this weekend. After two weeks of being with the kiddies 24/7 on my own, I am. SO. Looking forward to breaking out for a bit.
Whatever will I do with ALL that time?? Don't worry. That's a rhetorical question. I have a list *grin*.
Have a great weekend, all!
Whatever will I do with ALL that time?? Don't worry. That's a rhetorical question. I have a list *grin*.
Have a great weekend, all!
Thursday, August 27, 2009
LOVE. IT.
This video is part of the "Dark is Beautiful" campaign from Women of Worth in India (thanks to this post from Phillygrrl on Sepia Mutiny). It's a campaign to build the self-esteem of dark-skinned women and girls, and to counter toxic, mainstream campaigns by skin fairness creams (which are a multi-billion dollar industry in South AND East Asia).
Reminds me of the "Black is Beautiful" movement of the sixties which was based on a similar idea: to create a new aesthetic where non-European features were considered beautiful.
After you watch this video, do click on the link above to see the ad for the Fair and Lovely cream. If you can stomach it. If not, here is a brief summary: doors close on a young girl's future because she is too dark (and, therefore, not "modern"). The father, angry and determined to do right by his daughter, goes to the Ayurvedic files for a fairness concoction. The girl uses the cream and, voila! She is fairer! More modern! She is hired. And the whole world opens up to her.
::shudder::
Reminds me of the "Black is Beautiful" movement of the sixties which was based on a similar idea: to create a new aesthetic where non-European features were considered beautiful.
After you watch this video, do click on the link above to see the ad for the Fair and Lovely cream. If you can stomach it. If not, here is a brief summary: doors close on a young girl's future because she is too dark (and, therefore, not "modern"). The father, angry and determined to do right by his daughter, goes to the Ayurvedic files for a fairness concoction. The girl uses the cream and, voila! She is fairer! More modern! She is hired. And the whole world opens up to her.
::shudder::
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Are We Family?
Yesterday, I went into an "Indian fashion shop" (not actual name) to search for outfits for my girls. We're going to a gigantus Indian wedding in a week and it's the first one my girls will attend. They are thrilled and excited. All of it enthralls them: the mayaan, or "henna evening" with the women, the colorful, glittering fabrics, the bindis, the food, the music, the gathering of family and community . . .
Me? Not so much. Don't get me wrong. I love Indian weddings. Not so crazy about the drama. Anyway. We walk into the store and my girls go nuts looking through the racks and the bangles and the earrings and such. The store clerk smiles and begins to show them outfits she thinks they'll like. I veer them toward the outfits I know are more affordable.
All is well until one of my daughters holds an outfit against herself and admires it in the mirror. She beams. The outfit is dazzling. It has a long skirt and is in her favourite colour--fuschia. "Do I look like a princess, Mommy?"
The store clerk turns to one of her colleagues and, in Punjabi, says, "that colour doesn't work with the child's dark skin."
Well.
Before I can think about it I fire out, in Punjabi, "Oh, that colour works just fine on the child. What doesn't work on dark skin are your blue contact lenses."
She has the decency to be embarrassed. "Oh--you speak Punjabi! You . . . you don't look like you're Indian."
Okay. This, I've heard plenty in my life. But rarely has it come from another Indian, Punjabi, Sikh woman*. A woman who sees Indian, Punjabi, Sikh people all day long, who goes to various parts of South Asia to shop for the outfits that hang on her racks. I've been to India. I know that Indian, Punjabi, Sikh people vary in skin shade from very European-looking to very African-looking. In fact, in my own family, my mother often passes for Italian or Spanish, while my father has been called many derogatory names used for those who are of the darker persuasion in India. So . . . what exactly was this woman referring to when she said I didn't "look Indian"? It was my turn to be stunned.
The experience made me think a lot about family--both chosen and biological. This upcoming wedding is bringing up a lot of issues for me about belonging and family and community. Much like Sharan, the main character's mother, in SHINE, COCONUT MOON, I had a bit of a rocky path with both family and community. Most of my life choices did not sit well with either.
And then this store clerk -- making a quick judgement about me and my daughter both, in one fell swoop. On the one hand, I was grateful that my daughter doesn't speak the language and, therefore, didn't understand what the clerk said. I know how painful it was to hear things like that as I was growing up. It definitely leaves a lasting imprint.
But on the other hand, the language, the culture, the traditions, the spirit of the ancestors . . . these are her birthright. And regardless of what some ignoramuses say or think, she is entitled to them. As am I.
As I walked out of that store (and went into another where we bought our outfits), I was full of gratitude. I thanked whoever or whatever watches over us for helping me find like-minded souls in the world who eventually became my family and community. Like-minded souls who came in all colours, all genders**, and with varying life experiences. But I only found them when I stepped away. Made the decision to follow my own truth and my own path. Some things are just non-negotiable, you know? Sometimes you have to walk away to save yourself.
I hope for the same for my children: that they search for the light and love first, and everything else second.
*I knew she was Sikh because of the various symbols used to identify Sikhs. The "five K's," as detailed in SHINE, for instance.
** Yes, "all." I prescribe to the belief that gender is fluid and part of a continuum.
Me? Not so much. Don't get me wrong. I love Indian weddings. Not so crazy about the drama. Anyway. We walk into the store and my girls go nuts looking through the racks and the bangles and the earrings and such. The store clerk smiles and begins to show them outfits she thinks they'll like. I veer them toward the outfits I know are more affordable.
All is well until one of my daughters holds an outfit against herself and admires it in the mirror. She beams. The outfit is dazzling. It has a long skirt and is in her favourite colour--fuschia. "Do I look like a princess, Mommy?"
The store clerk turns to one of her colleagues and, in Punjabi, says, "that colour doesn't work with the child's dark skin."
Well.
Before I can think about it I fire out, in Punjabi, "Oh, that colour works just fine on the child. What doesn't work on dark skin are your blue contact lenses."
She has the decency to be embarrassed. "Oh--you speak Punjabi! You . . . you don't look like you're Indian."
Okay. This, I've heard plenty in my life. But rarely has it come from another Indian, Punjabi, Sikh woman*. A woman who sees Indian, Punjabi, Sikh people all day long, who goes to various parts of South Asia to shop for the outfits that hang on her racks. I've been to India. I know that Indian, Punjabi, Sikh people vary in skin shade from very European-looking to very African-looking. In fact, in my own family, my mother often passes for Italian or Spanish, while my father has been called many derogatory names used for those who are of the darker persuasion in India. So . . . what exactly was this woman referring to when she said I didn't "look Indian"? It was my turn to be stunned.
The experience made me think a lot about family--both chosen and biological. This upcoming wedding is bringing up a lot of issues for me about belonging and family and community. Much like Sharan, the main character's mother, in SHINE, COCONUT MOON, I had a bit of a rocky path with both family and community. Most of my life choices did not sit well with either.
And then this store clerk -- making a quick judgement about me and my daughter both, in one fell swoop. On the one hand, I was grateful that my daughter doesn't speak the language and, therefore, didn't understand what the clerk said. I know how painful it was to hear things like that as I was growing up. It definitely leaves a lasting imprint.
But on the other hand, the language, the culture, the traditions, the spirit of the ancestors . . . these are her birthright. And regardless of what some ignoramuses say or think, she is entitled to them. As am I.
As I walked out of that store (and went into another where we bought our outfits), I was full of gratitude. I thanked whoever or whatever watches over us for helping me find like-minded souls in the world who eventually became my family and community. Like-minded souls who came in all colours, all genders**, and with varying life experiences. But I only found them when I stepped away. Made the decision to follow my own truth and my own path. Some things are just non-negotiable, you know? Sometimes you have to walk away to save yourself.
I hope for the same for my children: that they search for the light and love first, and everything else second.
*I knew she was Sikh because of the various symbols used to identify Sikhs. The "five K's," as detailed in SHINE, for instance.
** Yes, "all." I prescribe to the belief that gender is fluid and part of a continuum.
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