Editorial Introduction:Transnational Feminist Movement(s), Solidarities, and Analyses Patti Duncan Sitting outside on a hot summer day in Portland, Oregon, I'm reminded of other summers in other places … long humid summers spent in Atlanta during graduate school, cooler summers growing up near the mountains of Colorado, summers spent traveling in various countries, sometimes with groups of students or to be with friends and family. Moving through time and space in these memories, I think about my mother's journey from South Korea, finding herself in the strange, foreign world of the 1970s United States, longing always for some version of home that no longer existed once she had left. I have a vivid memory of a summer during my childhood when she traveled to Korea and returned feeling melancholy about how everything there had changed so drastically. While I mostly remember missing my mom that summer, I realize now that her visit provoked a complex set of feelings for her about her place in the world. Her experiences—and my own—reflect the realities of moving between and among nation-states, making meaning of living transnationally. Themes and questions related to transnational movement/s surface throughout this issue of Feminist Formations, beginning with our cover, featuring the evocative work of Ambreen Butt. This image, "Shoaib (8)" (2018), created with watercolor with torn and collaged text on tea stained paper, is part of her series, "Say My Name." Ambreen Butt, a Pakistani American artist, engages feminist and political ideas through traditional Persian art, and is known for her drawings, paintings, prints, and collages. "Shoaib (8)" offers the name and age of a young victim of a US drone strike. All the pieces in the series are titled after children who were killed by US drones in Afghanistan and Pakistan. Knowing the inspiration for the image makes it all the more heartbreaking. In it, meticulously painted blue butterflies gather at the bottom while shards of blue swirl up around them, creating an effect suggestive of an explosion or a storm. Naming this piece and the other works in the "Say My Name" series after the children is significant, given that their lives and stories were virtually erased. Thus, the paintings document the names of these children, and offer viewers a way to bear witness to the violence that claimed their young lives. [End Page vii] The first article to appear in this issue is the winner of the Feminist Formations/National Women's Studies Association (NWSA) award of 2022, "Socio-Legal Empowerment for Working Women in Bangladesh" by Fauzia Erfan Ahmed, Jyotsana Parajuli, and Anna Lucia Feldman. In this article, Ahmed, Parajuli, and Feldman argue that earning income is not necessarily equivalent to economic empowerment for women in Bangladesh. In doing so, they identify a paradox in progressive development narratives stating that economic advancement does not necessarily lead to political and social advancement, and i
{"title":"Editorial Introduction: Transnational Feminist Movement(s), Solidarities, and Analyses","authors":"","doi":"10.1353/ff.2023.a907918","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1353/ff.2023.a907918","url":null,"abstract":"Editorial Introduction:Transnational Feminist Movement(s), Solidarities, and Analyses Patti Duncan Sitting outside on a hot summer day in Portland, Oregon, I'm reminded of other summers in other places … long humid summers spent in Atlanta during graduate school, cooler summers growing up near the mountains of Colorado, summers spent traveling in various countries, sometimes with groups of students or to be with friends and family. Moving through time and space in these memories, I think about my mother's journey from South Korea, finding herself in the strange, foreign world of the 1970s United States, longing always for some version of home that no longer existed once she had left. I have a vivid memory of a summer during my childhood when she traveled to Korea and returned feeling melancholy about how everything there had changed so drastically. While I mostly remember missing my mom that summer, I realize now that her visit provoked a complex set of feelings for her about her place in the world. Her experiences—and my own—reflect the realities of moving between and among nation-states, making meaning of living transnationally. Themes and questions related to transnational movement/s surface throughout this issue of Feminist Formations, beginning with our cover, featuring the evocative work of Ambreen Butt. This image, \"Shoaib (8)\" (2018), created with watercolor with torn and collaged text on tea stained paper, is part of her series, \"Say My Name.\" Ambreen Butt, a Pakistani American artist, engages feminist and political ideas through traditional Persian art, and is known for her drawings, paintings, prints, and collages. \"Shoaib (8)\" offers the name and age of a young victim of a US drone strike. All the pieces in the series are titled after children who were killed by US drones in Afghanistan and Pakistan. Knowing the inspiration for the image makes it all the more heartbreaking. In it, meticulously painted blue butterflies gather at the bottom while shards of blue swirl up around them, creating an effect suggestive of an explosion or a storm. Naming this piece and the other works in the \"Say My Name\" series after the children is significant, given that their lives and stories were virtually erased. Thus, the paintings document the names of these children, and offer viewers a way to bear witness to the violence that claimed their young lives. [End Page vii] The first article to appear in this issue is the winner of the Feminist Formations/National Women's Studies Association (NWSA) award of 2022, \"Socio-Legal Empowerment for Working Women in Bangladesh\" by Fauzia Erfan Ahmed, Jyotsana Parajuli, and Anna Lucia Feldman. In this article, Ahmed, Parajuli, and Feldman argue that earning income is not necessarily equivalent to economic empowerment for women in Bangladesh. In doing so, they identify a paradox in progressive development narratives stating that economic advancement does not necessarily lead to political and social advancement, and i","PeriodicalId":190295,"journal":{"name":"Feminist Formations","volume":"31 1","pages":"0"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"2023-06-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"135144585","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
Reviewed by: Worlding Postcolonial Sexualities: Publics, Counterpublics, Human Rights by Kanika Batra Asha Jeffers (bio) Worlding Postcolonial Sexualities: Publics, Counterpublics, Human Rights by Kanika Batra, New York: Routledge, 2022. 222 pp., $136 hardcover, $39.16 paper. One of postcolonial theory and criticism's most productive attributes is its attention to sameness and difference across disparate geographical locations and historical trajectories. While research and writing focused on specific nations are important as well, the comparative lens and skepticism towards purely nation-based analysis that are integral parts of postcolonialism allow its practitioners to continue to produce powerful scholarship with a global perspective. The value of these characteristics is especially clear in the context of feminist research, as the complex nature of categories of gender and sexuality throughout the world remain a core concern for those who are invested in the creation of transnational feminist and queer solidarity and the rejection of colonial practices masquerading as feminist action. Kanika Batra's Worlding Postcolonial Sexualities engages in the sort of comparative work that enriches multiple fields and discourses while digging deep into its various contexts. The goal of Batra's project is to offer "a feminist-queer history" based on readings of feminist, gay, lesbian, and queer movement publications from the late 1970s to the late 1990s (1) in order to "chart common grounds of feminist-queer solidarities toward decolonial futures" (2). To this end, over the course of three parts, Batra explores the history and context of feminist and queer publishing in three key nodes of the postcolonial world: Jamaica, India, and South Africa. These three locations are well chosen; they are each national contexts which have played and continue to play a key role in their region's literary and cultural landscape. At the same time, the differences amongst them also are part of why they are worthy of comparison. Jamaica's cultural, economic, and political role in the Caribbean is substantial, but it is a significantly smaller and less populous country than India and South Africa, and, as Batra points out, "their political and economic prominence (as members of the five-nation BRICS [Brazil, Russia, India, China, and South Africa] group) has ensured greater scrutiny of their records on the rights of women and sexual minorities" (6). South Africa's specific history of apartheid also deeply influences the trajectory of its discourses and practices around gender and sexuality, especially in terms of how they intersect with race. Each country also has a distinct linguistic context, although all three are former British colonies where the use of English continues to have middle- and upper-class connotations. In each of these three, disparate spaces, women and queer people of a variety of gender identities produced activist periodicals that sought to advance femi
{"title":"Worlding Postcolonial Sexualities: Publics, Counterpublics, Human Rights by Kanika Batra (review)","authors":"","doi":"10.1353/ff.2023.a907931","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1353/ff.2023.a907931","url":null,"abstract":"Reviewed by: Worlding Postcolonial Sexualities: Publics, Counterpublics, Human Rights by Kanika Batra Asha Jeffers (bio) Worlding Postcolonial Sexualities: Publics, Counterpublics, Human Rights by Kanika Batra, New York: Routledge, 2022. 222 pp., $136 hardcover, $39.16 paper. One of postcolonial theory and criticism's most productive attributes is its attention to sameness and difference across disparate geographical locations and historical trajectories. While research and writing focused on specific nations are important as well, the comparative lens and skepticism towards purely nation-based analysis that are integral parts of postcolonialism allow its practitioners to continue to produce powerful scholarship with a global perspective. The value of these characteristics is especially clear in the context of feminist research, as the complex nature of categories of gender and sexuality throughout the world remain a core concern for those who are invested in the creation of transnational feminist and queer solidarity and the rejection of colonial practices masquerading as feminist action. Kanika Batra's Worlding Postcolonial Sexualities engages in the sort of comparative work that enriches multiple fields and discourses while digging deep into its various contexts. The goal of Batra's project is to offer \"a feminist-queer history\" based on readings of feminist, gay, lesbian, and queer movement publications from the late 1970s to the late 1990s (1) in order to \"chart common grounds of feminist-queer solidarities toward decolonial futures\" (2). To this end, over the course of three parts, Batra explores the history and context of feminist and queer publishing in three key nodes of the postcolonial world: Jamaica, India, and South Africa. These three locations are well chosen; they are each national contexts which have played and continue to play a key role in their region's literary and cultural landscape. At the same time, the differences amongst them also are part of why they are worthy of comparison. Jamaica's cultural, economic, and political role in the Caribbean is substantial, but it is a significantly smaller and less populous country than India and South Africa, and, as Batra points out, \"their political and economic prominence (as members of the five-nation BRICS [Brazil, Russia, India, China, and South Africa] group) has ensured greater scrutiny of their records on the rights of women and sexual minorities\" (6). South Africa's specific history of apartheid also deeply influences the trajectory of its discourses and practices around gender and sexuality, especially in terms of how they intersect with race. Each country also has a distinct linguistic context, although all three are former British colonies where the use of English continues to have middle- and upper-class connotations. In each of these three, disparate spaces, women and queer people of a variety of gender identities produced activist periodicals that sought to advance femi","PeriodicalId":190295,"journal":{"name":"Feminist Formations","volume":"1 1","pages":"0"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"2023-06-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"135145115","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
What My Abuelas Taught Me About This Moment Carina M. Buzo Tipton (bio) Two weeks before my defense, my dissertation was due. On May 1, 2023, I spent the morning basking in my final read through of this project that I had been working on for five years. This project that reflected generations worth of my family. When I hit send, I remember this release, this exhale, to finally have it out of my hands. I felt the closing of a chapter. That afternoon I found out that I was pregnant. In the span of a single workday, the distance of a single page of my life was made clear. One chapter of life, turning to the next. This flipping of chapters, led to many reflections of closings, endings, transition—wisdoms that I have mostly learned from my Abuelas, that I would like to share with you, sweet reader. Because this is also the year that I completed my time as part of the Feminist Formations editorial team, I offer this afterword as a reflection on moments of transition. I spent a lot of time as a student searching for reassurance on the internet. I would search questions like: What does a grad student wear to orientation? What is feminism? What if my students hate me? What happens if I can't finish my dissertation? The answers to the questions I typed into the abyss weren't as important as the ritual of externalizing my self-doubt. The entire PhD process feels like training hard to do a million small things for the first, then last time (e.g., writing a dissertation, presenting a public defense of said dissertation). I feel like I spent the entirety of my PhD journey drowning in imposter syndrome. Now that I am closing the threads of my time, I can see how un-alone I was. Because of my time at Feminist Formations, my searching of what a feminist looks like, sounds like, or writes like has greatly declined over the last five years. Through my work as an editorial assistant and managing editor, I was witness to the work of countless authors, artists, reviewers, editorial board members, and editorial team members, all of which taught me how feminism shows up in the world in all its iterations; I no longer need to Google what a feminist looks like, because I see you, and I see myself. Feminists look like nervous scholars, [End Page 261] and confident scholars, we look like supportive editors and reviewers, rigorous and creative artists, we are mamas, friends, co-conspirators, beloveds, artists, and mentors. Thank you to the Feminist Formations multiverse for showing me the range of feminist existence and resistance, I hope your own experience with this journal has introduced you to the of beauty, happiness, rigor, success, and joy that only feminists can elicit. As I close my time with the journal, and as a student, I feel myself stepping into a world that feels like its crashing—trading one chaotic unknown life for another. While reflecting during this transition period, stepping into this future, it feels especially important to consider the context of our
Carina M. Buzo Tipton(生物)在答辩前两周，我的论文要交了。2023年5月1日，我花了一个早上的时间来阅读我已经做了五年的项目的最后一篇文章。这个项目反映了我们家族几代人的价值。当我点击发送时，我记得这个释放，这个呼气，最终把它从我的手中拿出来。我感到一章即将结束。那天下午，我发现自己怀孕了。在一个工作日的时间里，我清楚地看到了我生命中一页的距离。人生的一章，即将翻开下一章。这种翻动的章节，引发了许多关于结束、结束、过渡的思考——我主要是从我的祖母那里学来的智慧，我想和你分享，亲爱的读者。因为在这一年，我结束了在《女权主义形成》编辑团队的工作，所以我写这篇后记，作为对这些转变时刻的反思。作为一名学生，我花了很多时间在互联网上寻找安慰。我会搜索这样的问题:研究生穿什么去参加迎新会?什么是女权主义?如果我的学生讨厌我怎么办?如果我写不完论文怎么办?我在深渊里键入的问题的答案并不像把自我怀疑外化的仪式那么重要。整个博士学位的过程感觉就像在第一次，然后是最后一次训练做无数件小事(例如，写一篇论文，为所述论文进行公开辩护)。我觉得我整个博士生涯都沉浸在冒名顶替综合症中。现在，我正在整理我的时间，我可以看到我是多么的不孤独。由于我在女权主义组织工作的那段时间，我对女权主义者的长相、声音或写作的搜索在过去的五年里大大减少了。在担任编辑助理和总编辑的过程中，我见证了无数作家、艺术家、评论家、编委会成员和编辑团队成员的工作，他们都教会了我女权主义在世界上的各种变化;我不再需要谷歌女权主义者是什么样子，因为我看到了你，也看到了我自己。女权主义者看起来像紧张的学者和自信的学者，我们看起来像支持的编辑和评论家，严谨和有创造力的艺术家，我们是母亲，朋友，同谋，爱人，艺术家和导师。感谢《女权主义形成》多元宇宙向我展示了女权主义存在和抵抗的范围，我希望你自己在这本杂志上的经历已经向你介绍了只有女权主义者才能引出的美丽、幸福、严谨、成功和快乐。作为一名学生，当我结束写日记的时间时，我觉得自己步入了一个崩溃的世界——从一个混乱的未知生活转向另一个。在反思这一过渡时期，步入未来的同时，考虑我们现在的背景显得尤为重要。在每期的封面之间，我们聚集在女权主义的时空里。在每一份出版物、下载、阅读中，我们都被女权主义激进主义的历史所覆盖……那些为权利而战的人，那些为保护我们的错误而战的人。我们聚集在一起，以诗歌的形式向那些为女性和酷儿进入大学而奋斗的人致敬，然后开设以我们的经历和历史为中心的学术课程。我们在组织、领导、写作、阅读和编辑女权主义学术研究的过程中聚集在一起，就像这一期，就像这本杂志。在“骄傲月”，有色人种的跨性别女性为了我们的知名度、快乐、表达和自由而与石头和砖块战斗。我们在乔治·弗洛伊德被谋杀引发的反对反黑人种族主义的全国起义三周年之际聚集在一起。我们聚集在一起，正值一场我们的国家无法支持我们度过的全球大流行病。由于大流行和这个国家领导层的许多失败，我们带着慢性疾病写作和阅读……
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Abstract: The politics of modesty—clothing, behavior, interactions, and headscarf—remain contested within and outside Muslim communities. Headscarf practices are multivalent, with ties to national and local contexts and shaped by the transnational circulation of Islam. A nuanced approach to these variously situated practices—across narratives of choice, religiosity, nationalism, and consumerism—requires a reappraisal of patriarchal nationalism beyond the circumscribed Euro/American post-9/11 experience of Islamophobia. I analyze Malay Muslim women's tudung (headscarf) dilemmas in this article, arguing for a capacious feminist epistemology that critiques localized patriarchy within anti-imperialist and transnational perspectives. Based on intimate patchwork ethnography in urban Malaysia, I offer a feminist reading of gendered piety, communal belonging, and Islamization debates. I draw on intergenerational narrations of subjectivity to reveal how the state and community regulate tudung practices through the cultural construction of Muslim difference. I conclude by suggesting that feminist analyses attentive to the deep imbrication of patriarchal nationalism, anti-imperialist, and transnational configurations can support the reimagining of ethical possibilities in the study of gender in Muslim cultures.
{"title":"Reluctant Belonging: Tudung (Headscarf), Communalism, and Muslim Politics in Urban Malaysia","authors":"Azza Basarudin","doi":"10.1353/ff.2023.a907927","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1353/ff.2023.a907927","url":null,"abstract":"Abstract: The politics of modesty—clothing, behavior, interactions, and headscarf—remain contested within and outside Muslim communities. Headscarf practices are multivalent, with ties to national and local contexts and shaped by the transnational circulation of Islam. A nuanced approach to these variously situated practices—across narratives of choice, religiosity, nationalism, and consumerism—requires a reappraisal of patriarchal nationalism beyond the circumscribed Euro/American post-9/11 experience of Islamophobia. I analyze Malay Muslim women's tudung (headscarf) dilemmas in this article, arguing for a capacious feminist epistemology that critiques localized patriarchy within anti-imperialist and transnational perspectives. Based on intimate patchwork ethnography in urban Malaysia, I offer a feminist reading of gendered piety, communal belonging, and Islamization debates. I draw on intergenerational narrations of subjectivity to reveal how the state and community regulate tudung practices through the cultural construction of Muslim difference. I conclude by suggesting that feminist analyses attentive to the deep imbrication of patriarchal nationalism, anti-imperialist, and transnational configurations can support the reimagining of ethical possibilities in the study of gender in Muslim cultures.","PeriodicalId":190295,"journal":{"name":"Feminist Formations","volume":"3 1","pages":"0"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"2023-06-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"135144589","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
Abstract: Women who are multiply marginalized find innovative ways to conjure prestige and assert their dignity within oppressive societies. In this essay, I apply a Mami-informed de/colonial approach to analyze the life of one such woman: my grandmother Rosa. In 1936, Rosa (Mamá Osa) moved to the sierras of Sánchez, Samaná, Dominican Republic to resist the anti-Black patriarchy she experienced. By sharing my grandmother's story, I underscore the value of multiply marginalized women being in community with one another as a counterpoint to the liberal goal of integration. I draw parallels between the oral history of her decision to start a new life in the mountains and the written accounts of the sixteenth- and seventeenth-century maroon communities of the Americas. I also examine Dominican feminist writings during my grandmother's era to contextualize her life narrative. In making explicit how past Dominican feminist and pedagogical discourse were inaccessible and marginalizing to freedom-seeking women like my grandmother, I urge scholars who trace knowledge systems around the world to continue to examine the sources of feminist thought.
{"title":"Mamá Osa in the Mountains: African Ascendientes' Embodiments of Fugitivity and Freedom in the Americas","authors":"Mildred Boveda","doi":"10.1353/ff.2023.a907928","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1353/ff.2023.a907928","url":null,"abstract":"Abstract: Women who are multiply marginalized find innovative ways to conjure prestige and assert their dignity within oppressive societies. In this essay, I apply a Mami-informed de/colonial approach to analyze the life of one such woman: my grandmother Rosa. In 1936, Rosa (Mamá Osa) moved to the sierras of Sánchez, Samaná, Dominican Republic to resist the anti-Black patriarchy she experienced. By sharing my grandmother's story, I underscore the value of multiply marginalized women being in community with one another as a counterpoint to the liberal goal of integration. I draw parallels between the oral history of her decision to start a new life in the mountains and the written accounts of the sixteenth- and seventeenth-century maroon communities of the Americas. I also examine Dominican feminist writings during my grandmother's era to contextualize her life narrative. In making explicit how past Dominican feminist and pedagogical discourse were inaccessible and marginalizing to freedom-seeking women like my grandmother, I urge scholars who trace knowledge systems around the world to continue to examine the sources of feminist thought.","PeriodicalId":190295,"journal":{"name":"Feminist Formations","volume":"214 1","pages":"0"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"2023-06-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"135144586","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
Abstract: What is the relationship between Islamic principles of modesty and practices of aesthetic labor in the industries of influencer marketing and fashion? I respond to this question by examining the aesthetic labor of self-proclaimed modest Muslim female social media influencers to show how Islamic modesty—as it is understood via patriarchal interpretations of Islamic texts, and by cultural authorities in secular circles of fashion, is deemed inherently antithetical to Muslim female aesthetic labor in the fashion and influencer marketing industries. My findings show that Muslimah influencers face a doubly burdened challenge: on the one hand, Muslim women are expected to modify their performances of modesty to align with the secular expectations of aesthetic labor in these industries, but on the other, they are expected to observe modesty according to patriarchal interpretations of Islamic texts. In either case, failure to abide by racialized and gendered expectations renders Muslim women vulnerable to critique from Muslim and non-Muslim communities. I argue that this conflict illustrates that Islamic modesty is deemed fundamental to contemporary conceptions and embodied performances of Muslim womanhood online and plays a key role in shaping racialized and gendered expectations of Muslim women held by Muslim and non-Muslim communities in the west.
{"title":"When Modesty Meets Aesthetic Labor: Islamic Modesty as Antithetical to Muslimah Social Media Influencers' Aesthetic Labor","authors":"Inaash Islam","doi":"10.1353/ff.2023.a907926","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1353/ff.2023.a907926","url":null,"abstract":"Abstract: What is the relationship between Islamic principles of modesty and practices of aesthetic labor in the industries of influencer marketing and fashion? I respond to this question by examining the aesthetic labor of self-proclaimed modest Muslim female social media influencers to show how Islamic modesty—as it is understood via patriarchal interpretations of Islamic texts, and by cultural authorities in secular circles of fashion, is deemed inherently antithetical to Muslim female aesthetic labor in the fashion and influencer marketing industries. My findings show that Muslimah influencers face a doubly burdened challenge: on the one hand, Muslim women are expected to modify their performances of modesty to align with the secular expectations of aesthetic labor in these industries, but on the other, they are expected to observe modesty according to patriarchal interpretations of Islamic texts. In either case, failure to abide by racialized and gendered expectations renders Muslim women vulnerable to critique from Muslim and non-Muslim communities. I argue that this conflict illustrates that Islamic modesty is deemed fundamental to contemporary conceptions and embodied performances of Muslim womanhood online and plays a key role in shaping racialized and gendered expectations of Muslim women held by Muslim and non-Muslim communities in the west.","PeriodicalId":190295,"journal":{"name":"Feminist Formations","volume":"4 1","pages":"0"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"2023-06-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"135143156","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
Abstract: This article puts together the seemingly disparate topics of transnational domestic labor and the Hong Kong protests to discuss inter-ethnic and cross-class solidarity. It does so by examining the writing of Yuli Riswati, an Indonesian migrant worker and civic journalist who was deported from Hong Kong in 2019. City-wide civil disobedience in Hong Kong has historically been predicated upon the liberal ideal of suffrage (as in 2014) and an essentialized and Han-centric identity of Hongkonger (as in 2019), both of which have overlooked the needs of ethnic minorities, especially those who are ineligible for citizenship. Building on scholarship in decolonial and intersectional feminism, this essay focuses on Riswati's two short stories, namely "Violet Testimony" (2016) and " 那個傷口依然在我體內 " ("The Wound Is Still Inside Me" 2019) as well as her personal essay, "Some Notes about Hong Kong as My Second Home" (2020), which was featured by the exhibition afterbefore at the Chinatown Soup gallery in New York. This essay argues that Riswati's writing embodies what Gayatri Spivak would call an oppositional transformative: Riswati's stories about political involvement and gender-based domestic violence challenge the traditional history of the international labor movement that has a distinctive masculinist ethos and the typical narrative of Hong Kong protests focused exclusively on the citizenry, a rhetorical move underpinned by the homogenizing assumption that all Hongkongers are Han Chinese. As a former Hong Kong domestic worker, Riswati's textual performatives throw into relief the shared precarity which makes herself and her community relatable to a global audience; thereby, her writing brokers a type of intersubjectivity of the human or a postcolonial humanism that does not rely on a preconceived notion of humanity which shows up in the definition of a nation or a region's citizenry but rather on audience engagement that speaks to her publications' distinctive context and culture.
{"title":"Forms of Solidarity and the Self: A Postcolonial Reading of Yuli Riswati's Hong Kong Writing","authors":"Kai Hang Cheang","doi":"10.1353/ff.2023.a907920","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1353/ff.2023.a907920","url":null,"abstract":"Abstract: This article puts together the seemingly disparate topics of transnational domestic labor and the Hong Kong protests to discuss inter-ethnic and cross-class solidarity. It does so by examining the writing of Yuli Riswati, an Indonesian migrant worker and civic journalist who was deported from Hong Kong in 2019. City-wide civil disobedience in Hong Kong has historically been predicated upon the liberal ideal of suffrage (as in 2014) and an essentialized and Han-centric identity of Hongkonger (as in 2019), both of which have overlooked the needs of ethnic minorities, especially those who are ineligible for citizenship. Building on scholarship in decolonial and intersectional feminism, this essay focuses on Riswati's two short stories, namely \"Violet Testimony\" (2016) and \" 那個傷口依然在我體內 \" (\"The Wound Is Still Inside Me\" 2019) as well as her personal essay, \"Some Notes about Hong Kong as My Second Home\" (2020), which was featured by the exhibition afterbefore at the Chinatown Soup gallery in New York. This essay argues that Riswati's writing embodies what Gayatri Spivak would call an oppositional transformative: Riswati's stories about political involvement and gender-based domestic violence challenge the traditional history of the international labor movement that has a distinctive masculinist ethos and the typical narrative of Hong Kong protests focused exclusively on the citizenry, a rhetorical move underpinned by the homogenizing assumption that all Hongkongers are Han Chinese. As a former Hong Kong domestic worker, Riswati's textual performatives throw into relief the shared precarity which makes herself and her community relatable to a global audience; thereby, her writing brokers a type of intersubjectivity of the human or a postcolonial humanism that does not rely on a preconceived notion of humanity which shows up in the definition of a nation or a region's citizenry but rather on audience engagement that speaks to her publications' distinctive context and culture.","PeriodicalId":190295,"journal":{"name":"Feminist Formations","volume":"1 1","pages":"0"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"2023-06-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"135145246","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
Reviewed by: Inherited Silence: Listening to the Land, Healing the Colonizer Mind by Louise Dunlap Gwyn Kirk (bio) Inherited Silence: Listening to the Land, Healing the Colonizer Mind by Louise Dunlap, New York: New Village Press, 2022. 277 pp., $89.00 hardcover, $22.95 paper. E-book available from digital partners. Congratulations to Louise Dunlap for this unflinching account of how her family's land, in what is now known as Northern California, came to be in their hands, and their silence about the Indigenous people who had cared for this place. Dunlap describes the 80-acre ranch in Napa Valley: the massive live oaks, [End Page 253] wildflower meadows, creeks, birds, and the many plants she knows by name—California natives as well as invasive species brought from Europe. She writes: I'd felt deep intimacy and love for this piece of earth since childhood, long before I understood that my great-great-grandfather had bought it in a time of what's now acknowledged as genocide … I wanted to unearth the land's history and the roles my relatives had played in its colonization … to understand the wounding that must have taken place and how all of us—and the land—could heal. (1–2) In 1843, Nathan Coombs, Dunlap's great-great-grandfather, arrived in California from Massachusetts. He founded the town of Napa in 1847; and an outlying area, Coombsville, is named after him. In 1857, Coombs bought more than 2,000 acres of rolling hills, part of a land grant the Mexican government had conferred on ranchero and military man Cayetano Juárez for his services in protecting Franciscan missions and "subduing" Indigenous people. Earlier, Wappo and Patwin people had used this land for hunting and gathering and cared for it year-round. Dunlap's California ancestors were businessmen, lawyers, elected officials—people who showed up in archives. She traced them through newspaper reports, old maps, the County Historical Society, and faded letters written in copperplate script. Also, scholars were publishing new histories that documented "a California genocide during the Anglo wave of conquest from 1846 to 1873," just as Nathan Coombs was establishing himself (47). What Dunlap learned about her family did not fully answer her questions, however. She realized that their "silences didn't start in Napa; their mind-set had come west with them" (200). Working back in time, she discovered relatives who'd arrived on the Mayflower and were "part of settler-colonialism from the very beginning" (201). She read critical accounts of the first European settlements described by literary scholar Kathleen Donegan (2014) as "brutal places characterized by disease, death, factions, violence, starvation, ignorance …" (203). This was not what Dunlap had learned as a child. Abenaki scholar Lisa Brooks (2018) calls the settler narrative of triumph and resilience a "replacement narrative" that erased both psychological trauma and the appalling brutality against those already living on this contin
书评:继承的沉默:倾听土地，治愈殖民者的心灵，作者:格温·柯克(传记)继承的沉默:倾听土地，治愈殖民者的心灵，作者:路易丝·邓拉普，纽约:新村出版社，2022年。277页，精装版89.00美元，纸质版22.95美元。电子书可从数字合作伙伴。祝贺路易斯·邓拉普(Louise Dunlap)，她毫不畏惧地讲述了她家族的土地是如何在现在被称为北加州的地方掌握在他们手中的，以及他们对照顾这片土地的土著人民的沉默。邓拉普描述了纳帕谷80英亩的牧场:大量的活橡树，野花草地，小溪，鸟类，以及许多她知道名字的植物——加利福尼亚本土植物以及从欧洲带来的入侵物种。她写道:“我从小就对这片土地有着深深的亲密和爱，早在我知道我的曾曾祖父是在现在被认为是种族灭绝的时期买下这片土地之前……我想发掘这片土地的历史，以及我的亲戚在殖民中所扮演的角色……了解一定发生过的伤害，以及我们所有人以及这片土地如何才能愈合。”1843年，邓拉普的高曾祖父内森·库姆斯从马萨诸塞州来到加利福尼亚。1847年，他建立了纳帕镇;还有一个边远地区库姆斯维尔就是以他的名字命名的。1857年，库姆斯买下了2000多英亩连绵起伏的丘陵，这是墨西哥政府授予牧场主和军人卡耶塔诺Juárez土地的一部分，以表彰他在保护方济各会传教和“征服”土著人民方面的贡献。早些时候，瓦波和帕特温人用这片土地打猎和采集，并全年照顾它。邓拉普在加利福尼亚的祖先是商人、律师、民选官员——他们都是档案里的人。她通过报纸报道、旧地图、县历史协会和用铜版字体写的褪色信件来追踪他们。此外，学者们正在出版新的历史，记录了“1846年至1873年盎格鲁人征服浪潮期间加利福尼亚的种族灭绝”，正如内森·库姆斯(Nathan Coombs)正在确立自己的地位一样(47)。然而，邓拉普对她家庭的了解并没有完全回答她的问题。她意识到，他们的“沉默不是从纳帕开始的;他们的思维模式也跟着来到了西方”(200)。回溯过去，她发现了乘坐五月花号来到这里的亲戚，他们“从一开始就是移民殖民主义的一部分”(2011)。她读了文学学者凯瑟琳·多尼根(Kathleen Donegan, 2014)对第一批欧洲移民地的评论，称其为“以疾病、死亡、派系、暴力、饥饿、无知为特征的残酷之地”(203)。这不是邓拉普小时候学到的东西。阿本纳基学者丽莎·布鲁克斯(Lisa Brooks, 2018)称定居者的胜利和恢复力叙事是一种“替代叙事”，它抹去了心理创伤和对已经生活在这片大陆上的人的骇人听闻的暴行。虽然邓拉普同情她的亲属遭受的苦难和暴力，因为他们严格的清教徒信仰不允许他们悲伤，但她承认他们在对土著人民的暴力中同谋。她惊恐地写道:“我们剥了尸体的头皮，折磨他们，肢解尸体……”(219页)。她认为，无论她的亲戚是否直接参与了具体的暴行，他们都从这种不人道的制度中受益，现在仍然如此。邓拉普警告读者，这本书的某些部分可能会引起严重的不适，并告诫读者不要仅仅采用学术方法。最后两章详细描述了她如何面对她所发现的深刻的羞耻和悲伤，并为读者提供了许多资源。她从1990年参加伤膝大屠杀100周年纪念活动开始，致力于成为土著人民的盟友。她参加了旧金山湾区奥隆人发起的“贝壳漫步”活动，并支持由城市土著妇女领导的Sogorea Te' Land Trust组织，旨在将土著土地归还给土著人民(https://sogoreate-landtrust.org/)。她的部分过程是找到与祖先的联系，尽管她对他们的行为或信仰感到厌恶。她参与了深刻的质疑，牢固的政治友谊，以及……
{"title":"Inherited Silence: Listening to the Land, Healing the Colonizer Mind by Louise Dunlap (review)","authors":"","doi":"10.1353/ff.2023.a907930","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1353/ff.2023.a907930","url":null,"abstract":"Reviewed by: Inherited Silence: Listening to the Land, Healing the Colonizer Mind by Louise Dunlap Gwyn Kirk (bio) Inherited Silence: Listening to the Land, Healing the Colonizer Mind by Louise Dunlap, New York: New Village Press, 2022. 277 pp., $89.00 hardcover, $22.95 paper. E-book available from digital partners. Congratulations to Louise Dunlap for this unflinching account of how her family's land, in what is now known as Northern California, came to be in their hands, and their silence about the Indigenous people who had cared for this place. Dunlap describes the 80-acre ranch in Napa Valley: the massive live oaks, [End Page 253] wildflower meadows, creeks, birds, and the many plants she knows by name—California natives as well as invasive species brought from Europe. She writes: I'd felt deep intimacy and love for this piece of earth since childhood, long before I understood that my great-great-grandfather had bought it in a time of what's now acknowledged as genocide … I wanted to unearth the land's history and the roles my relatives had played in its colonization … to understand the wounding that must have taken place and how all of us—and the land—could heal. (1–2) In 1843, Nathan Coombs, Dunlap's great-great-grandfather, arrived in California from Massachusetts. He founded the town of Napa in 1847; and an outlying area, Coombsville, is named after him. In 1857, Coombs bought more than 2,000 acres of rolling hills, part of a land grant the Mexican government had conferred on ranchero and military man Cayetano Juárez for his services in protecting Franciscan missions and \"subduing\" Indigenous people. Earlier, Wappo and Patwin people had used this land for hunting and gathering and cared for it year-round. Dunlap's California ancestors were businessmen, lawyers, elected officials—people who showed up in archives. She traced them through newspaper reports, old maps, the County Historical Society, and faded letters written in copperplate script. Also, scholars were publishing new histories that documented \"a California genocide during the Anglo wave of conquest from 1846 to 1873,\" just as Nathan Coombs was establishing himself (47). What Dunlap learned about her family did not fully answer her questions, however. She realized that their \"silences didn't start in Napa; their mind-set had come west with them\" (200). Working back in time, she discovered relatives who'd arrived on the Mayflower and were \"part of settler-colonialism from the very beginning\" (201). She read critical accounts of the first European settlements described by literary scholar Kathleen Donegan (2014) as \"brutal places characterized by disease, death, factions, violence, starvation, ignorance …\" (203). This was not what Dunlap had learned as a child. Abenaki scholar Lisa Brooks (2018) calls the settler narrative of triumph and resilience a \"replacement narrative\" that erased both psychological trauma and the appalling brutality against those already living on this contin","PeriodicalId":190295,"journal":{"name":"Feminist Formations","volume":"7 1","pages":"0"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"2023-06-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"135145250","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
Abstract: Ideologies of motherhood reflect the complexities and contradictions of what it means to be seen as a worthy parent—someone who deserves to care for children—in contrast to those deemed unworthy or undesirable. The family is a site of contestation when accounting for the ways maternalism and white supremacy affect racialized family systems in the lives of people of color in white American suburbia. In a critical engagement with the 2017 novel Little Fires Everywhere by Celeste Ng and the 2020 Hulu -released series by the same name, this essay reveals the contours of non-normative kinship formations, including surrogacy and adoption. These kinship ties demonstrate the tensions of motherhood as a gendered, raced, and classed phenomena. A reproductive justice framework reveals the way Little Fires Everywhere —the novel and the series—demonstrate the legibility and legitimacy of some families over others in exploring the contingencies of kinship.
{"title":"\"It Came, Over and Over, Down to This: What Made Someone a Mother?\": A Reproductive Justice Analysis of Little Fires Everywhere","authors":"Kimberly D. McKee, Shannon Gibney","doi":"10.1353/ff.2023.a907924","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1353/ff.2023.a907924","url":null,"abstract":"Abstract: Ideologies of motherhood reflect the complexities and contradictions of what it means to be seen as a worthy parent—someone who deserves to care for children—in contrast to those deemed unworthy or undesirable. The family is a site of contestation when accounting for the ways maternalism and white supremacy affect racialized family systems in the lives of people of color in white American suburbia. In a critical engagement with the 2017 novel Little Fires Everywhere by Celeste Ng and the 2020 Hulu -released series by the same name, this essay reveals the contours of non-normative kinship formations, including surrogacy and adoption. These kinship ties demonstrate the tensions of motherhood as a gendered, raced, and classed phenomena. A reproductive justice framework reveals the way Little Fires Everywhere —the novel and the series—demonstrate the legibility and legitimacy of some families over others in exploring the contingencies of kinship.","PeriodicalId":190295,"journal":{"name":"Feminist Formations","volume":"11 1","pages":"0"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"2023-06-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"135144587","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
Abstract: Andrea Lawlor's (2017) historical picaresque novel Paul Takes the Form of a Mortal Girl tracks the ephemeral embodiments and identifications of Paul Polydoris, a gender-fluid, shape-shifting anti-hero who adapts to queer environments across the United States during 1993–1995, a time when gay hedonism, lesbian feminism, punk anti-homonormativity, and LGBTQ responses to AIDS combined to make a complex heyday of queer culture. Paul exemplifies "organic" transitioning in that his gender processes complicate the culture/nature binary, resist anthropocentrism, emphasize empathetic interrelation with other organisms, and privilege understanding of the complex involvement of biology, culture, and individual will in transition. Paul's body is an enchanted site of meaning that is created in situ and in which he is then positioned to participate in local culture, moving the concept "sense of place" from green trope to queer fantasy of limitless engendering. Approaching the novel from a queer ecological/ecofeminist perspective, this paper argues that as a magical, marginal bricoleur who assembles performative selves from biological forms and cultural references via passionate liminal engagement with queer spaces, Paul inhabits a self-directed transness that challenges conventional understandings of the "natural" and the "human," modeling a dynamic, queer topophilia.
摘要:Andrea Lawlor(2017)的历史流浪汉小说《保罗以凡人女孩的形式》(Paul Takes the Form of a Mortal Girl)追溯了保罗·波利多丽丝(Paul Polydoris)的短暂体现和身份认同。1993-1995年，在同性恋享乐主义、女同性恋女权主义、朋克反同性恋以及LGBTQ对艾滋病的反应共同构成了一个复杂的酷儿文化全盛时期，保罗·波利多丽丝是一个性别流动、变形的反英雄，他适应了美国各地的酷儿环境。保罗举例说明了“有机”过渡，因为他的性别过程使文化/自然二元对立复杂化，抵制人类中心主义，强调与其他生物体的移情相互关系，以及对过渡中生物学、文化和个人意志的复杂参与的特权理解。保罗的身体是一个充满意义的迷人场所，是在原地创造的，在那里他被定位为参与当地文化，将“地方感”的概念从绿色的比喻转移到无限产生的奇怪幻想。从酷儿生态/生态女性主义的角度来看这部小说，本文认为，作为一个神奇的、边缘的杂色者，保罗通过对酷儿空间充满激情的有限参与，从生物形式和文化参考中聚集了表演自我，他居住在一种自我导向的跨性别中，挑战了对“自然”和“人类”的传统理解，塑造了一种动态的、酷儿的地形癖。
{"title":"Organic Transitioning and Queer Topophilia in Paul Takes the Form of a Mortal Girl","authors":"Cynthia Belmont","doi":"10.1353/ff.2023.a907925","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1353/ff.2023.a907925","url":null,"abstract":"Abstract: Andrea Lawlor's (2017) historical picaresque novel Paul Takes the Form of a Mortal Girl tracks the ephemeral embodiments and identifications of Paul Polydoris, a gender-fluid, shape-shifting anti-hero who adapts to queer environments across the United States during 1993–1995, a time when gay hedonism, lesbian feminism, punk anti-homonormativity, and LGBTQ responses to AIDS combined to make a complex heyday of queer culture. Paul exemplifies \"organic\" transitioning in that his gender processes complicate the culture/nature binary, resist anthropocentrism, emphasize empathetic interrelation with other organisms, and privilege understanding of the complex involvement of biology, culture, and individual will in transition. Paul's body is an enchanted site of meaning that is created in situ and in which he is then positioned to participate in local culture, moving the concept \"sense of place\" from green trope to queer fantasy of limitless engendering. Approaching the novel from a queer ecological/ecofeminist perspective, this paper argues that as a magical, marginal bricoleur who assembles performative selves from biological forms and cultural references via passionate liminal engagement with queer spaces, Paul inhabits a self-directed transness that challenges conventional understandings of the \"natural\" and the \"human,\" modeling a dynamic, queer topophilia.","PeriodicalId":190295,"journal":{"name":"Feminist Formations","volume":"10 1","pages":"0"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"2023-06-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"135145253","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
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