Tom Hayden is living proof that one person can make a tremendous difference in the course of a lifetime. Perhaps best known as a member of the Chicago Seven, Hayden helped organize street demonstrations against the Vietnam War at the 1968 Chicago Democratic Convention. Hayden began his life in activism as a founding member of the widely influential group Students for a Democratic Society. Active on a host of issues in the early 1960s, he was arrested and beaten in rural Georgia and Mississippi as a Freedom Rider. He later became a community organizer in Newark where he helped create a national poor people’s campaign for jobs and empowerment. When the Vietnam War invaded American lives, Hayden became an increasingly vocal opponent through teach-ins, demonstrations, and writing. Due to his involvement in the 1968 protests, Hayden was indicted with seven others on charges of conspiracy and incitement. After five years of trials, appeals, and retrials, he was acquitted.
Hayden spent the 1970s organizing the grassroots Campaign for Economic Democracy in California. He was elected to the California state assembly in 1982, followed by the state senate ten years later. He served in public office for eighteen years until his retirement in 2000.After 40 years of activism, politics, and writing, Tom Hayden remains a leading voice for ending the war in Iraq, eradicating sweatshops, saving the environment, and reforming politics through greater citizen participation. Recently, InTheFray Travel Editor Michelle Caswell spoke with Tom Hayden via email and learned how those committed to reshaping America might put their ideas into action.
The interviewer: Michelle Caswell
The interviewee: Tom Hayden / Los Angeles
You have recently been working on behalf of No More Sweatshops!, a California-based workers’ rights organization that has been pressuring public agencies to end the practice of buying sweatshop-made products. Has the ‘no tax dollars for law-breakers’ campaign had any recent successes you would like to talk about?
After an interminable struggle and wait, the cities of Los Angeles and San Francisco signed monitoring contracts with the independent and pro-worker Workers Rights Consortium (WRC), [in December 2006]. They should be able to do four site visits this year as well as obtain complete disclosure of factory sites and subcontractors.
How are all of the issues you advocate for — an end to sweatshop labor, conserving the environment, ending the war in Iraq — related?
I would say they are connected through Machiavellian power structures as well as … in the new populism we see. While organizations have their reasons to keep the issues separate, no one can deny that Iraq is about oil and that anyone concerned with global warming, for example, should be equally passionate about global suffering.
You devoted the early part of your career to fighting for civil rights as a Freedom Rider in the South. Four decades later, schools are segregated across the country and the economic gulf between blacks and whites is still astounding. In your opinion, was the civil rights movement a success? What went wrong?
Yes, the civil rights movement prevailed against the Machiavellians in achieving voting rights, civil rights, and the end of the Dixiecrat political coalition at the time. To a lesser extent, the movement’s energies were directed towards jobs, for example, in the demands of the March on Washington in 1963 and the War on Poverty of 1964. We ran into two walls. First, the war in Vietnam sapped any resources to confront the battles at home. Second, the end of segregation removed the incentive for the plantation economy, and there was no public sector jobs strategy to fill the void of employment. Had the assassinations not happened, the political energy might have been renewed successfully.
While there have been some major protests against the war in Iraq and public opposition to the war is growing, we haven’t seen nearly as big of an outcry as in the 1960s protests against Vietnam. Why is this, in your opinion?
Actually the 2002 and 2003 protests were larger and earlier, and the American public came to regard Iraq as a “mistake” faster than during Vietnam. But the comparative images do make the Sixties appear grander, if I can use such a word. As [for] reasons, in the Sixties it was necessary to be in the streets because there was no inclusion. As a result of the Sixties, much of the consciousness came “indoors,” to the classrooms and neighborhoods, so to speak. But also the end of the draft has been a big factor in subduing potential restlessness on the campuses.
Do you think young people are apathetic today? What can we do to instill a culture of activism among young people?
It’s up to each generation. We had no elders in the 1960s; the question for people like me is how to be an elder, not a leader, today.
Can you speak about your work advocating for U.S. Congressional hearings on exiting Iraq?
After the 2004 elections, I was terribly afraid that the Democrats who were anti-war were shell-shocked by defeat and in danger of retreating further away from an anti-war position. I became involved that year in helping stir some interest in the progressive Democrats taking an open interest in what is now the subject of the moment — not how stupid it was to invade Iraq, but how … the movement and its political allies [can] design or demand a blueprint for withdrawal. Since 2005, most of the Democrats and some Republicans have come around to the need for an exit plan including a withdrawal deadline. They won’t go much further unless really pushed during the upcoming presidential elections by activists on the ground.
Many young idealists from the 1960s gave up their activism as they got older. Why have you stuck with it? What motivates you?
My own story is connected to the story of these times, and I seem drawn to following the stories to their end. I also remain easily angered by bullies and killers, and don’t understand why anyone would get tired of holding them accountable.
What do you think is the future of the Democratic Party? Do you think it is possible to advocate for change within a two-party system? How can the left take back the Democratic Party? How have you managed to make the shift from protesting the Democratic Convention to being a delegate without compromising your ideals?
I believe in the creative power of independent social movements, but also that when those movements grow large enough they will [and should] flow into electoral politics like a tributary of a great river. I don’t think the Democrats can be “taken over” because at their core they are embedded in the Machiavellian elite. But the rank and file of the Democratic Party can and will propel very progressive candidates to certain offices where the movements are strong, and they can even challenge in the presidential primaries during crises like this one.
How can people get involved? What is something that someone can do right now to make a difference in his or her community?
I hope that people can connect their work on a personal level with larger strategies for change. An example, but only one, would be to get in the face of military recruiters at your local campuses. Not only will you save some kid’s life, but you will contribute to shutting off the military manpower (“cannon fodder,” we used to say) necessary to keep the Iraq War going. The war will end when enough people-power pressures the pillars of the policy, if you see what I mean.
From the time Martha Cooper received her first camera — a Baby Brownie — while still in nursery school, she has been in love with photography. Sixty years later, Cooper is a renowned documentary photographer based in New York City. She worked for the New York Post as a staff photographer from 1977 to 1980, but she is best known for her pioneering work in the 1970s and 1980s, documenting the emerging hip-hop scene. Her book Subway Art (Thames & Hudson), published in 1984 in collaboration with Henry Chalfant, raised subway car graffiti to an art form and is still considered a classic text for graffiti artists today. In 1994, she published RIP: Memorial Wall Art (Thames & Hudson) that showcased the practice of spray-painting murals on city walls and subway cars to commemorate recently deceased friends and relatives. Since then Cooper has collaborated on many other projects that portray little known aspects of urban folklore. Her latest book (together with Nikki Kramer) is We B*Girlz (PowerHouse Books, 2005) about female break-dancers. Cooper recently talked with former ITF Travel Editor Anju Mary Paul about her projects past, present, and future, the increasing appreciation for urban culture in New York today, and the difficulties of getting published. But first, we had to convince Cooper that she was an activist.
The Interviewer: Anju Mary Paul
The Interviewee: Martha Cooper
I’m active; I don’t know if I’m an activist. It’s a subtle form of activism that I do — it’s not like picketing. Do you know about Citylore? I’ve worked for them for 20 years. They’re a non-profit community organization that documents, among other things, the ethnic communities, festivals, arts, traditions, and urban folklore of New York City. This is their 20th year and I’ve been involved with them as director of photography for the entire time.
Did you become interested in Citylore because your own interests are so closely aligned with urban culture?
Yes. I did an early project on “play” which evolved into a book called City Play. That sort of led to my introduction to Amanda Dargan and Steven Zeitlin, who had similar interests and then they founded Citylore. They do poetry gatherings, public programs; it’s not just photography. Their mission statement reads: “As cultural activists we are committed to the principles of cultural equity and democracy. We believe that cultural diversity is a positive social value to be protected and encouraged; that authentic democracy requires active participation in cultural life, not just passive consumption of cultural products; and that our cultural heritage is a resource for improving our quality of life.” So, yeah, I guess I’m a “cultural activist.” Let’s go with that one!
How did you get into this field in the first place, connecting photography and urban culture?
I grew up with photography because my father had a camera store. And I wanted to travel. As soon as the Peace Corps was formed, I joined. I was in the Peace Corps in Thailand from 1963 to 1965. Then I decided I liked traveling around and looking at different cultures. I wanted to be an anthropologist. So I did a year of graduate work and then decided that I really didn’t want to be an anthropologist! It was too analytical. I just wanted to look at the stuff, take pictures and things. So I decided I wanted a job that would combine photography and anthropology, but there really wasn’t a good path to do that at the time.
So you pretty much created the job for yourself?
I did. Of course, there is a history of ethnographic photography. And there are actually some books on it. And now I think there’s even an organization: Visual Anthropology, but I haven’t followed what they’re doing.
Did you start taking photos of urban culture through your job at The Post?
I was very attracted to New York City for no reason I can put my finger on. I knew all the publishers were here and I wanted a career in photography. At the time I was living in Rhode Island, but the things I wanted to photograph fell more in the category of “urban folklore,” so when I came to the city, I naturally sought out the things that interested me and took pictures of them. And then I found out that there is a field of urban folklore, so I connected with those people who were doing research in this field. A very early project I did was called “Brooklyn Rediscovery.” We produced a slim little pamphlet Making Brooklyn Home that we are constantly going back to for information about these places. It covered typically urban and New York City things like pigeon flying, playing bocce but using old railroad tracks under the El as opposed to a court, playing skelly, which is a game only played in New York City, and the giglio (pronounced jil-i-o) festival in Brooklyn, which is still going on. We did extensive research with urban folklorists on this project. There’s a core group of folklorists in the city and I kind of fell into it and that’s where I still am.
Do you find that interest in urban folklore within New York has grown since you first started?
Yes. I think that people are much more aware and so I don’t shoot it as much anymore because I don’t like to go to these festivals and find hundreds of photographers there. When I was the only photographer, I felt I was discovering something interesting and unusual, and preserving it. Photography is a great way to preserve history. It’s cheap and one person can do it; you don’t need a film crew. But now, when I go to many of these festivals, I just feel like I’m elbowing other photographers. In a way, that’s a good thing. It means that New Yorkers are more aware and participating in cultural activities that are out of their own culture. But I like to be the discoverer. Do you find yourself moving more overseas to do projects? Is the U.S. maxed out?
I don’t want to go overseas to do projects. What I found is that even though it’s a lot of fun to travel, it’s too hard. It’s hard to do a continuing project and connect with people and be able to go back. I’m always arriving and being told, “Oh, you should have been here last week! That’s when we really had the big thing,” or “Wow! It’s coming up next week,” but I’ve already gotten my ticket home.
What projects are you working on now?
There’s a neighborhood in Baltimore called “SoWeBo” — South West Baltimore — after Soweto in South Africa. The name of it appealed to me as much as anything else. And I found a little house there. There are no stores, there are no Starbucks; it hasn’t gentrified yet. There’s a liquor store, I think. But I met this couple and they said, “We’re going to make this place into Georgetown!” And all this is right on my street. A block away there’s one of the oldest stables in America. They have 18 horses and they have these guys called “A-rabs”, and they go round the neighborhood with horse carts selling produce. There’s another Baltimore tradition of painted screens. People paint their screen doors and windows so you can’t see in through them. There aren’t that many left; the screen painters have all pretty much passed away, but I did see a few. And this is all in my neighborhood. This is urban folklore in Baltimore.
How do you choose your projects?
Something about it has to excite me in order to invest so much time and money in it. I like to feel that I’m investigating something that hasn’t been extensively covered before, though in the world today, that’s practically impossible. But graffiti was like that, and when I started covering hip-hop, the words weren’t even in use. And I got into that through break-dancing, which I’d never seen before and wanted to pursue. And my neighborhood in Baltimore, I feel that there has not been any documentation about it.
A lot of other projects are just given to me. I do them with somebody because it’s their project, not mine. I’m pretty much a jack-of-all-trades; I’ll do anything. I’m fortunate that I don’t have to go out looking for work; work comes to me. At this point, I don’t even have a portfolio.
Do you have any dream projects in your head?
Well, the Baltimore project is the one that’s kind of taken over my imagination right now. The thing that’s different about Baltimore is that it’s all my own. I’m not working with anybody else; it’s just me so I’m completely free to decide what I want to shoot and how far I want to take the project. There’s no pressure to satisfy someone else; I just have to satisfy myself. And when I get a good picture, it’s very exciting. When I see kids playing in inflatable pools on the sidewalk, I get a buzz! So Baltimore in some ways is my dream project because I can take what I’ve learned in the last 20 years and apply it to a fresh site. There’s nothing like going to a new place to get your juices flowing. But I can also come back to New York easily. It’s like traveling — I call it my “country house” even though it’s very urban. Going there evokes the same kind of joys of traveling, but without the inconveniences. I can go back and forth. For instance, I was in Baltimore for the past three days, I came back here for two days, and tomorrow I’m going there again.
There are other projects that I would like to do. For instance, I lived in Japan for a couple of years in the 1970s. And I’m trying to put those photos together into a book. I have enough photos for a hundred projects. So I’m now thinking I should start to put them together. Has it been hard at times to get other people interested in the projects you’re interested in?
Yes. It’s definitely hard to get them published. For instance, for years I’ve documented vernacular architecture. I have huge files on vernacular architecture in New York that I have on my computer. And I’ve had all kinds of book proposals out and I’ve gotten grants to do this, but I’ve not been able to get a publisher. And when you look at architecture books in stores and you see all this formal architecture but there’s not even one book on urban vernacular structures. My photos have to do with surviving in the city and finding interesting ways to ply your trade without spending a lot of money; for example, by squeezing a tiny store between buildings. And there’s all kinds of personalized things: door-handles, signs, awnings, and menu holders. There are many different ways that individuals transform the city. That’s my theme. But I’ve just not been able to get anywhere with this in terms of publishing it. My idea was to simply publish it as a little book similar to the one I did on memorial walls. And I have contacts with publishers — it’s not like I’ve never been published. But they just look at it and say, “Nah, won’t sell,” but I think it would sell. I just think that people walk up and down the street and they don’t notice these things. I remember you told me how much trouble you had getting Subway Art published.
Exactly. But when I did get it published, the same publisher published Memorial Art and I would have thought—it’s an architecture publisher—that I would have been able to talk him into this one too. But I have not been able to get anywhere. What I’ve decided is that the longer I wait, the more interesting these photos become as the city changes. Most of the structures are already gone. It’s hard to get these projects out there. And if they’re not published, what’s the point really? I shoot for my own pleasure of course, but to me, a project isn’t really successful until it’s in some form that is tangible and public.
Though mainstream media coverage of the Israel-Palestine conflict suggests the inevitability of violence, alternative media is discovering just how deep the desire for non-violent solutions runs. A conversation with activist-filmmaker Ronit Avni.
Most people are unaware of the existence of Israelis or Palestinians working to find a non-violent solution to the conflict in the region. Violence and bloodshed make for better headlines and allow the conflict to be easily reduced to “us versus them.”
But Ronit Avni is trying to change that. Ronit is the founder and director of Just Vision, an organization that documents and raises awareness of Israeli and Palestinian grassroots peace activists. She is also the co-director of the documentary Encounter Point, which features the stories of activists she has met through the course of her work.
The film has been screened at several festivals over the past few months, including Hot Docs, the Jerusalem Film Festival, the Tribeca Film Festival, the Sao Paulo Film Festival, and the Vancouver International Film Festival. Encounter Point also won the audience award for best documentary at the San Francisco International Film Festival in May. It opens for a limited run at the Quad Cinema in New York on November 17.
The interviewer: Randy Klein, ITF Board of Directors member The interviewee: Ronit Avni, filmmaker and activist
You have been involved in human rights work for a long time and Just Vision seems like an outgrowth of several of your past experiences. What was it like interning for B’Tselem, the Israeli Information Center for Human Rights in the Occupied Territories?
Human rights work is generally a sobering and difficult experience. You develop a vocabulary you wish you would never have use for; words to describe torture, degradation, assassinations, discrimination, abuse. It is painful to confront what we human beings are capable of. It is especially painful if you were taught to hold your community or society to high standards of moral conduct. The dissonance can be destabilizing.
I interned at B’Tselem in 1999, during the Oslo process. It was eye-opening. A field researcher, Najib Abu Rokaya, was kind enough to take me with him on various occasions to the West Bank as he collected testimonies of Palestinians whose homes had been destroyed or whose child had been hit by a rubber-coated steel bullet. At the time, the intern coordinator introduced me to the Public Committee Against Torture in Israel (PCATI) so I would split my time between my own research, PCATI, and B’Tselem.
What struck me was that communities who lived ten or fifteen minutes apart from one another had virtually no sense of the other’s perspective. It isn’t a unique phenomenonæthere are plenty of communities in Brooklyn or Manhattan that never interactæbut it really affected me. B’Tselem gave me the opportunity to see through these two separate lenses. I have tremendous respect for their work. It is never easy to hold a mirror up to one’s society. Many prophetic voices have been killed or ostracized over generations for critiquing dominant views or habits, and yet such voices are essential to our growth as ethical human beings. B’Tselem holds a mirror up to Israeli society. Those who take the time to read their reports see a picture that is less than flattering. I also started reading Stanley Cohen’s work during that timeæabout different ways that societies deflect responsibility through denial, or rationalization or by displacing blame. I was seeing this play out in the public’s responses to B’Tselem.
You spent several years working at WITNESS, which is an amazing human rights organization. Tell us a little about the organization and some of your experiences working there.
WITNESS was conceived by Peter Gabriel. The idea was to train human rights organizations to document abuses using video cameras. After the Rodney King beating, the organization was launched together with the Lawyers Committee for Human Rights, now called “Human Rights First.” When I started, I was one of three full-time staff members, so each person wore many hats. Part of my role became to train human rights organizations from countries including Afghanistan, the Gambia, Honduras and Senegal to document violations using video and to strategize with them about effective uses of video for social change. I loved the work as it was at the intersection of technology, film, human rights advocacy and public policy. It was also tremendously humbling to meet so many courageous people. I was particularly inspired by indigenous rights advocate Joey Lozano from the Philippines, the women from RAWA [Revolutionary Association of the Women of Afghanistan], and the youth of color from the Bay Area who all demonstrated civic leadership in their communities despite personal hardship. They were not politicians, yet they had a sense of agency and urgency and this led them to get involved. They inspired me to look for Israelis and Palestinians doing the same within their own societies. This was the beginning of my journey to launch Just Vision.
What did you learn about using video as a tool for advocacy?
I learned about the strengths and limits of the medium. It is an inherently reductive, narrative-driven medium that lends itself to telling personal stories rather than providing a structural overview of a systemic problem. Also, there are few rules; what is safe or ethical or effective in one context might be entirely problematic for another. It takes patience, planning and networks of support to make change happen. Very few rights violations are documented as they unfold. Instead, video is often used for evidence, awareness-raising, to reconstruct events or as a deterrent to further abuse. Most of the work happens after the film is producedæto ensure it is seen by those with the power to effect change. I learned that ultimately it is about community organizing, strategic thinking, reliability and quality. If all those elements come into play, you are more likely to be effective. If you are disorganized, lack buy-in from potential stakeholders, or are unreliable or shoddy in your work, you are unlikely to succeed.
When did you get the idea for Just Vision? Which came first, the film or the organization?
Encounter Point is an integral part of a broader effort to raise awareness about Palestinians and Israelis at the vanguard of a movement to promote nonviolence and peace building. The film was never meant to emerge in isolation. From the beginning, we wanted to create in-depth materials online to complement the film, since no 90-minute film can ever do justice to the painful, divisive and complex Israeli-Palestinian conflict. For this reason we are interviewing 180 peace builders and publishing this living history archive online at JustVision.org together with educational curricula and a timeline of the conflict through the lens of these 180 people who are committed to ending it. We are also trying to connect such peace builders to policymakers, journalists, community leaders, religious figures and more. We’ve taken our work to members of the State Department, Capitol Hill, the World Bank, the Oprah Winfrey Show, temples, mosques and community centers, to name a few.
Why do you think stories of these brave and inspiring individuals are so absent from the coverage of the situation?
They are not sensational. They are complex and hard to describe. They don’t “sell” or “pitch” well. A photo of a bomb or the wounded is self-explanatory. The picture tells the story. Peace work is slow, incremental, it is relational and requires context. I don’t think there is any ill-intent by journalists who do not cover this story, but it requires them to know more background, to speak the languages of the peace builders, to take time to learn the nuances of different approaches. And social change is slow. Policy is immediate and wide-ranging in its impact so it feels urgent to report on. Grassroots work is ongoing and develops over years or decades, Sometimes we take this for granted and don’t bother to stop and say, “Wait, this is important.” We have yet to fully appreciate the impact of this type of work, though. The Israeli movement to withdraw its troops from Lebanon began with small grassroots organizations and networks of mothers and then soldiers and others who wanted to see change. It took two decades, but it finally happened by and large. These movements take a long time to take root, and to enter into public discourse and ultimately to reflect the mainstream.
Just as the individuals featured in the film come from different backgrounds, Just Vision is itself a collaboration of people from various parts of the globe. Can you talk about some of the various staff and what their perspective brings to the organization?
We are a core team of young women from Israel, Canada, the Occupied Palestinian Territories, Brazil and the US. Julia Bacha is from Brazil. She was the co-writer and editor of the filmControl Room, and studied Middle Eastern history and politics. Joline Makhlouf is the first Palestinian woman pilot. She’s worked with Israeli-Palestinian co-existence and dialogue groups ranging from Face-to-Face, Faith-to-Faith and Seeds of Peace. Nahanni Rous is a journalist from the US who interned in Jerusalem with Linda Gradstein of NPR and traveled cross country interviewing families after September 11th. I am part Israeli, part Canadian. It takes everyone to move this agenda forward. The more communities begin to back non-violent peace builders, and the more we demand that they be reported on and supported, the better.
You have shown the film at locations in Israel and the West Bank. Can you talk about the reaction of the audience at these screenings?
The reactions to Encounter Point have been largely positive. We opened the film in West Jerusalem at the Jerusalem International Film Festival to a sold-out audience. It was perhaps the most diverse group of people I have seen in the region with cynics and sceptics along with those eager for the film. They ranged from Israeli orthodox Jewish settlers to Northern Tel Aviv secular affluent Israeli Jews to Palestinian Christians to Palestinian Muslims from Ramallah, Jenin, East Jerusalem and other nearby cities. We were terrified at how they would react but the film subjects received a standing ovation at the end. One orthodox Jewish Israeli man got up and stated that he felt the film was biased in favor of Palestinians. One devout Palestinian Muslim woman stood and expressed that she felt it was biased in favor of Israelis. Afterwards, most people went outside and continued the conversation for 1.5 hours. This included the two individuals who felt the film favored the “other side.” It was truly amazing.
In East Jerusalem we received a similarly positive response. We also showed the film in Haifa and Jenin. In Haifa, we screened the film three times but people were just returning to their homes so the turnout was low. They have invited us back for a proper, publicized screening. In Jenin about 100 people came, watched the film, clapped and then ran into the streets as the Israeli army had just invaded, so we didn’t have a substantive Q&A afterwards. In Gaza, I wasn’t there, but my understanding is that the audience had a hard time. The Israeli army was engaged in military operations in Gaza at the time, so it was even more tense than usual for residents. Their only exposure to Israelis are as settlers and soldiers so they had difficulty seeing empathic depictions of Israeli civilians. Also, they wanted to see the army invasion reflected in the film, which it was not, although the military occupation is. We have just been invited to screen the film in Nazareth and Tel Aviv and are working on a Ramallah screening.
Are there any plans to reach out to schools or community groups to use this for educational purposes?
Yes, definitely. We made a special Arabic and Hebrew version of the film and have offered it to local educators and community leaders to use as a tool for sparking dialogue and understanding on some of these issues. We’ve been working with graduate students from Columbia University Teacher’s College, as well as the staff of Abraham’s Vision to provide in-depth educational lessons about this issue. We hope to distribute the lessons to high schools and colleges across the country, as well as online.
Has the trouble over the summer in the West Bank and Lebanon impacted the work of the activists featured in the film?
Not really—Robi, Ali, Shlomo, Tzvika and Sami continue to be advocates for resolving the conflict through non-militant means. As far as I know, everyone is still engaged in their work.
Finally, it is impossible to have a conversation about the conflict without asking about the elections. You have commented that Just Vision tries to focus on the people who will “have to live with the peace.” What are your thoughts and what have your contacts on both sides expressed to you concerning Hamas gaining so many seats in the Parliament?
Generally, we really focus on the people who do this work regardless of who is in power. So many events garner that question. When [Ariel] Sharon was elected, many Palestinians reacted similarly to Israelis’ reactions to Hamas’s victory. Yet peace building must continue, and it does. We want to strengthen the voices of those who are trying to build a culture and consensus that favors nonviolence and peace. This will take time, but it is essential. I was not surprised about the Hamas election. I don’t think it signals the radicalization of Palestinian society, just as the Likud vote for Sharon did not necessarily signal a major shift to the right by the Israeli public. People want to trust their leaders, and they want change. History demonstrates that sometimes hard liners make tough choices that doves cannot. I can only hope that whatever the outcome of these two elections, ultimately the voices for compromise, dignity and diplomacy on both sides take center stage. “Inshallah,” as they say.
Beijing’s successful bid to host the 2008 Olympic Games signals the increasing geopolitical influence wielded by China, as it tries to transform itself into an economic and political superpower. Though the eyes, or at least the television sets, of the world will be fixated on the world’s most populous country during the summer of 2008, neither China nor the mainstream media is likely to offer viewers and competitors a behind-the-scenes look at the experiences of the Tibetan and Tai people, two ethnic minorities residing on China’s geographic, cultural, and political border.
In preparation for their March 2 reading in New York, I recently sat down with Sara Davis and Robert Barnett. Dr. Davis is the author of Song and Silence: Ethnic Revival on China’s Southwest Borders. She is a former China researcher for Human Rights Watch and has written for several publications, including the Wall Street Journal, International Herald Tribune, and Modern China. Dr. Barnett is the author of Lhasa: Streets with Memories. He is a lecturer in Modern Tibetan Studies at Columbia University and a former journalist for the BBC. He is also the former director and founder of the now-defunct Tibet Information Network.
How did each of you become interested in studying the Tibetans and Tai Lües?
Robert Barnett: I was working in Hong Kong about 15 or 20 years ago. A friend persuaded me to travel around China and India. In order to get to India overland, one had to go through Tibet. Unfortunately, the day I was to go see the main tourist site in the capital, Lhasa, I walked into the middle of a big demonstration in which a number of people were killed. No Westerner had ever [witnessed] one before in Tibet. So I became one of a group of foreigners who were [the first] eyewitnesses to these events.
Sara Davis: I was studying Chinese oral literature and folklore in graduate school. I knew I wanted to study Chinese storytelling but did not know where. I had seen storytellers in Sichuan, [a province in southwest China], when I [was] traveling around in that post-college, pre-anything-else period. I saw these amazing storytellers and decided I was going to study that, but the question was where, since there was almost no storytelling going on in China anymore.
Why was that?
SD: Television, radio, movies, the usual stuff. My graduate school advisor suggested I work in Yunnan. I [spoke with] people I knew who had spent time in Yunnan, and found someone who said [he was] once in this temple in Sipsongpanna, in southern Yunnan, and saw this woman telling a story. I managed to dig up someone’s master’s thesis that had a passing reference to storytellers in Sipsongpanna. So based on these two slim pieces of information, I submitted an entire dissertation proposal and convinced them that I was going to go off and find storytellers — without actually knowing if there were any. That’s how I wound up in Yunnan and did my doctoral research on the Tai Lües, which became the basis for the book.
How many other nationalities other than the Han are there in China?
RB: This is a huge question. China has a population of roughly 1.3 billion people and 91 percent are considered ethnic Chinese or Han. The Chinese run a very tight ship in which classification is done by the government in a highly organized and pre-determined way. They had a system where [different communities] had to register to have their nationalities recognized. About 400 managed to register … [The Chinese government] sent specialists around the country … to determine which of the 400 actually met the criteria. [The scholars] used Marxist criteria, which were actually Stalin’s criteria for [determining what constituted] nationality. Eventually, 55 [groups were] accepted as “minorities.”
The Chinese [government] are very definite in saying there are only 56 nationalities, including the Han. Although the 91 percent are all the same nationality, they see themselves as treating all nationalities equally and as being very tolerant.
SD: When they were doing this process of boiling down the 400 ethnicities and coming up with 55, they initially sent out teams of anthropologists and ethnologists to create books on the different [ethnic] regions.
What time period was this?
SD: It went on for a while. Most of it was done [in the 1950s and 60s], but some of it continued into the 70s. I don’t know about Tibet, but the books on Yunnan are quite serious scholarly research. They categorized the ethnic groups, placing each one on a different level of evolutionary advancement. The Tibetans and the Tais were in the middle because they had written scripts and their own systems of government. Some groups that had never had any contact with each other were lumped together as one group while others that have had lots of contact were split in two — so it wasn’t always a rational system
Based on this evolutionary scale the government decided they were going to move everyone up the scale. Of course, at the top are the Han. The idea was to accentuate the positive qualities and eliminate the negative. The government, often including ethnic scholars themselves, then went through and picked out which qualities were good qualities (such as singing and dancing, wearing nice pretty clothes), and which qualities were bad, like polygamous marriage. They then set up programs to “improve” all of the nationalities.
RB: This all came from an American model.
SD: Henry Morgan, based on his study of the Iroquois.
RB: His idea that society can be organized in an evolutionary pyramid inspired [19th century German political philosopher Friedrich] Engels, who gave it to [19th century German philosopher, political economist, and revolutionary organizer Karl] Marx.
SD: [The Chinese government] went around creating practices that would be “better.” For instance, with the Tais, they felt their dances were okay, but they needed to be improved. They [had] a nice written alphabet, but not good enough, so they needed to improve the alphabet. The government got very involved in almost every aspect of the public and private lives of these border people.
This sounds similar to the Chinese government’s stated goal in Tibet of modernizing them.
RB: It’s very interesting because the –ize word [changes] over time. When the Chinese invaded Tibet, they never mentioned anything about equality or [advancement]. They just said, “We are here to liberate you, not from oppression by nasty aristocrats or religion, but from imperialists from the West who are trying to take you over.” Then, nine years later, it changed from feudalism to liberation. They gave that up in the 1980s and changed it to “We’re here to modernize you.”
SD: In Yunnan, too. It started out as, “We are liberating you from the nationalist warlords”. Actually, there was a certain amount of delight about that because people in Yunnan had really been oppressed and were suffering economically under the thugs … running the southwestern part of the country. Then it became, “We are going to liberate you from your past,” which [was] much more abstract and cleared the space for all kinds of different projects.
RB: There were huge changes that took place with enormous consequences that led to thousands of deaths, and some of these changes have never been acknowledged. The state always gives the impression that the changes happened seamlessly.
SD: You’re still not allowed to talk about what happened.
This touches on the notion of research. How did each of you manage to get people to talk to you about these and other issues?
RB: I don’t do any research in Tibet now and I don’t ask people there any questions. If I did, the people I speak to could [get] in serious trouble. Lots of people won’t speak to me in Tibet because I said on a U.S. radio interview about a year and a half ago that “lots of people say to me that they don’t want a railway in Tibet.” [In 2001, the Chinese began construction on a 685-mile, $2.3 billion railway from Golmud to Lhasa]. I was threatened with [banishment] from China for a while because the Chinese do not allow criticism of their new railway project. The Tibetans are terrified because I said “lots of people say,” which means I talked to specific people. They might investigate whoever talked to me, even though I used the phrase in a general way.
SD: Yunnan has much more freedom and it’s interesting to compare the different border areas, and … ask why some areas have more leeway than others. In Yunnan, people are very adept at self-censorship. You can go there as a backpacker and get invited into people’s homes. You can talk about all kinds of topics, but when you get to politics, the conversation shifts to, “Oh never mind, let’s go back to hearing about America, tell us more about your wonderful country.” They are also very good at preserving certain areas where they have some space, and keeping [them] marked off from public view. There are areas in Yunnan where people are able to do things that would [have] stiff repercussions in Tibet.
What kinds of things?
SD: Religious activities, border crossings. There is a lot of trade across the border, which is legal. It means that Buddhist monks can also cross the border to Thailand and come back with computers and new ideas. They are allowed to do that, but they are very good at keeping it quiet. The Tais are monitored by the government but they manage their government interactions. There are no conflicts or mass protests in the streets, but they do have Buddhist ceremonies with thousands of people who come across the border to participate. It’s all done in some little town far away from the center of the prefecture. So if you’re a government official, you can know about it and not know about it. It is not challenging the state’s control, even though it is actually subverting it.
RB: In Tibet, you can talk to people, just not about politics. They won’t get arrested as long as they are not talking about “dangerous” things. The question is, how [does the government determine] what you are talking about? So you have to talk in public, and have a third person present so it does not look suspicious. And you must avoid certain topics.
SD: I once asked one of my Tai friends why they are treated differently from the Tibetans. She said, “[The government] feel they eliminated our culture during the Cultural Revolution, so now there is nothing to worry about.” But the Tais have been able to revive and reinvent their culture. They are rebuilding temples but they are also bringing in new ideas.
RB: We should say that there were some gains to be had from being part of the Chinese system. It’s just that they really didn’t have much choice. Most Chinese citizens make shrewd calculations on where the gains are, such as “My children might get an education” or “We can travel outside of the country if we do x and y.” It’s highly pressurized and there are only a limited set of choices that can be “successful.”
SD: I think the Tais and Tibetans are like the carrot and the stick. It’s an equation that is also very clear to the rest of the country. If you misbehave, you’ll get slammed, but if you behave, then everyone will come to watch you sing and dance.
What role do each of you see the Internet playing in cultural survival, especially in light of heavy Chinese censorship?
SD: That is very easy for me to answer since the Tais I know have computers but do not have the Internet. I keep nagging them to get it, but they don’t really care about it. They use computers to produce materials in Tai on disks, and then they carry these across the borders and exchange them by hand, just as they have been doing with other goods for centuries. It is an effective system, and they can avoid Internet censorship, but they are also not as connected to the outside world. They don’t have as large a profile as they could if they were more Web savvy — but it works for them.
RB: There is a lot of Internet use in Tibet, but people have to be very careful how they use it. They have to [show] an ID card before they log on, so it is heavily monitored. Public computers throughout China have software embedded in them that records every keystroke and transmits it back to the police.
Recently, InTheFray Literary Editor Laura Madeline Wiseman spoke with Irene Kai about her recently published memoir, The Golden Mountain. Their conversation — and Kai’s thoughts on the American Dream — follow:
The interviewer: Laura Madeline Wiseman, InTheFray Literary Editor
The interviewee: Irene Kai, author of The Golden Mountain
In The Golden Mountain while visiting your old school in Hong Kong as an adult it seemed like you came to a moment where you decided you were done with being a seven-year-old girl and were ready to be an adult woman. After coming to the realization that you were no longer going to let certain people treat you as a child, what motivated you to begin the journey of writing your memoir?
When I was living in Los Angeles, at the pinnacle of success, I realized that I have achieved the American Dream as I understood it. I was [on] the brink of exhaustion, emotionally and physically. I started to question what my life [was] about, [since I had] spent most of my life [trying] to get to where my family and society claimed would provide respect [from family and the United States] and found out things had never changed. I was still the person who lived under everyone’s thumb. So I went on the journey of deep remembrance, to understand where I came from and where I wanted to go from there with clarity and understanding.
And that motivated you to begin the memoir?
Yes, it took three years, seven hours a day between crying and writing. An extremely healing process.
In The Golden Mountain the sections on your great-grandmother, grandmother, and mother flow smoothly. How were you able to create the cohesiveness apparent in the text? Did you speak to living family members to fill in the gaps during those three years of writing or is The Golden Mountain simply a compilation of all the stories you were told?
I lived with all of these women. Since my great grandmother and I were the outcasts, we spent a lot of time together and she told me many stories. I have been practicing meditation for many years. When I started to write, I would go into deep meditation and the memories came back like a movie and I just recorded them.
You only write in the first person in one section, the section on you. Yet the sections on your great-grandmother, grandmother, and mother are written in third person. Why did you choose to organize the book this way? And did you experiment with other ways to tell this story?
To tell you the truth, I was trained as a visual artist. I came to the [United States] when I was 15, so I missed out on all the lessons on grammar and learning how to speak. I have no training as a writer. Believe it or not, it just fell into place as I wrote. It is pure GRACE.
In the book, there’s a clear sense that women in your family always knew their place and acted in such a way to encourage others to follow that same axiom. What seemed to be the turning point for you to break from that cultural tradition?
For thousands of years, women in China [have] only [been able to] survive through marriage. They are owned by the husband’s family … where would they go if they got kicked out of the family? [I had timing] on my side and location, the United States. I survived by getting a job, building a career, which … in China … was impossible.
Do you think that is still true for women in China today, particularly under the current regime?
China is changing rapidly. For the first time in the history of China, women now have jobs, they don’t have to be married to survive. But the old tradition is hard to [get rid of]. Amazingly only a few months ago, I read in a Chinese newspaper that the government just changed the law claiming that employees no long require their employers’ permission to get married. I couldn’t believe it. They also still have to get the government’s permission to travel and to relocate. The first sentence of my book says it all, “I am sorry, it’s another girl.” In the 1970s China imposed the one child policy. Routinely, family disposed of daughters because it was against the law to have more than one child. Traditionally, the Chinese needed to keep boys to help out the family and when the parents got old, the son and daughter-in-law [would] take care of them. If they only have a daughter, who is going to take care of them when they get old? The daughter belongs to her husband’s family and it is her obligation to take care of her in-laws.
In The Golden Mountain you do a very good job of conveying that telling family secrets is a Chinese taboo, particularly in your family. How has your family reacted to The Golden Mountain?
My sisters didn’t take it too well. Teresa still doesn’t talk to me. I asked their permission before I wrote, but after they read the book, they were disgusted. No one talks about the book. They just pretend it didn’t happen. My children have gone through a lot. They were caught between their loyalty to me and to their aunts and cousins. Teresa’s daughter wrote me a nasty email and sent it to all the members of my family including my children. She asked if I [know] what love means. Family is all we have, it doesn’t matter who hits who when we should just love each other. Meanwhile, her father is an alcoholic and so is her husband. The chain of abuse just goes on and on. My children stayed out of everyone’s way and kept quiet but I know they are proud of me. Bob, their father really surprised me. After he read the book, he called and said, I was a schmuck.” I nearly fainted.
Are you planning on writing another book and if so, what will be the topic?
I have another book coming [out] in 2006. It is a book of photography. The title is: What Do You See? They are photographs of my hands but [they] look like genitals. It is a challenge for readers to face their assumptions and ask deeper questions about their judgments.
To read Laura Madeline Wiseman’s review of The Golden Mountain, click here.“
Sasha Cagen took the everyday to-do list and used it to peer into our souls. In an email interview, she tells the story of the genesis of her magazine, To-Do List, and describes the challenges of the publishing world.
Most of us write to-do lists, but most of us do not found magazine’s based on them as Sasha Cagen did. Her magazine, To-Do List, wais “committed to exploring the details of modern lives” that “make us click, roar, think, develop, and sometimes break down.” It useds the to-do list as a window into the complex shape of our lives and communities. To-Do List was the winner of the Utne Reader‘s Alternate Press Award for Best New Magazine 2000, Reader’s Choice. Since then, Cagen has been forced to put the magazine on permanent hiatus. But as I found from interviewing Cagen, who lives in San Francisco, is much more than just a thousand lists. Her essays have appeared in various publications including The Village Voice, Utne Reader, and the San Francisco Chronicle. She is also the author of Quirkyalone: A Manifesto for Uncompromising Romantics, which investigates people the person who “enjoys being single (but is not opposed to being in a relationship) and generally prefers to be alone rather than dating for the sake of being in a couple.” As an avid list-maker myself, Cagen’s magazine intrigued me enough to contact her for the following interview, which illuminates how lists often offer a window into our culture and how projects such as To-Do List might succeed.
Francis Raven: How did you start collecting lists?
Sasha Cagen: I wasn’t really a listmaker when I first started To-Do List magazine. Sure, I made the occasional pros and cons list, a Christmas list as well as a list of all the presents I bought for family, but listmaking didn’t structure my days the way they do now. I made them sometimes at work to help me organize my day and my tasks, but I called them “work plans,” because I saw someone else use that title, and I figured that it would look good to my boss if I had a “work plan.”
I started collecting to-do lists when I decided to start a magazine of the same name. Before we launched our first issue, I placed an ad asking for people to send us their to-do lists. Once the actual, handwritten lists started coming in the mail, I became addicted to getting them, and my ideas about the name changed. At first, the name To-Do List was more conceptual — about the to-do lists of young adulthood rather than real to-do lists themselves. But I started to realize the name To-Do List conveyed a lot more than the tasks and hopes and dreams one would have as an adult. There’s something completely universal about the to-do list written at any age, and something both voyeuristic and comforting in reading another person’s list. You see that you are not the only person struggling with daily tasks like buying stamps to mail a bill on time — things that are supposed to be easy. And you also see how people think about larger issues too — because people write to-do lists about everything. Not just what they hope to accomplish in a day, but also what they hope to accomplish over their whole lives.
The to-do list concept became a jumping-off point for examining the details of daily life, and to convey the breadth of topics we would cover in the magazine, from the mundane to the meaningful, just like the random jumble of items on any one’s to do list (from flossing to finding your soul mate).
FR: What’s the quality you are looking for in a good to-do list?
SC: To-Do List published essays and interviews, and actual handwritten lists accompanied those pieces as artwork. When we were choosing lists, we were just as selective as when we were choosing essays. We were looking for lists with unexpected, human, mysterious, funny items: lists that told a story, but not in an over-the-top, calculated way. It’s very obvious when someone constructs a list and sends it in to the magazine to be reprinted. The handwriting is too perfect and well aligned. The items are too precious. A good list raises questions and tells a story, but it’s elliptical. The items should be slightly mysterious, so that you start to imagine your own story about the person’s life.
FR: What’s the most difficult thing about running a magazine?
SC: When you run a magazine, the more successful you become, the more difficult your life gets. Your to-do list becomes endlessly long, which is fine if you are getting paid a salary and know how to set limits on your workday, but a lot of independent publishers don’t know how to set limits very well, and the labor of love starts to take over your life, and you go crazy! The same can be true of writing a book, which is what I turned my attention to in the last few years. Since my first book Quirkyalone came out in 2004, I’ve been consciously working on writing shorter to-do lists so that more of my time is devoted to leisure, meditation, yoga, and pure hanging out. And I have to say, I like my shorter to-do lists.
(Kristian Birchall)
FR: How did you start the magazine?
SC: With a lot of passion, energy, and ideas but very little money. I started To-Do List in 1999 (our first issue was released in summer 2000) with paychecks saved from my proofreading job; at the time, I was 26. The staff was super-talented and all-volunteer. Annie Decker was the senior editor, Burns Maxey was the art director, and I was editor and publisher. Our efforts were bolstered by a gang of other volunteers in the San Francisco Bay Area. (This is a great place to start a magazine — there are so many talented designers, writers, editors, and proofreaders who are willing to work for reasons other than money.) Burns left after two years and she was replaced by another great designer, Sara Cambridge.
Among other major recognition, To-Do List won Utne’s Alternative Press Award for Best New Magazine, 2000, Reader’s Choice. We got press coverage in the San Francisco Chronicle, Real Simple, [National Public Radio’s] “All Things Considered,” and the Chicago Tribune. A fiction piece by Jenny Bitner was reprinted in Best American Nonrequired Reading, edited by Dave Eggers. To-Do List was an unusual, special, great magazine, but no matter how good a magazine ist, it still needs money, and that part of the equation wasn’t figured out from the beginning. We didn’t have capital, which now I realize you really need in order to launch and make a magazine a sustainable operation. After three years, I put the magazine on permanent hiatus. There’s no job I would rather have than publishing To-Do List, but now that I’m in my thirties30s, I have to focus on making money and I can’t work for free any more. In the future I’ll find a way to bring to-do list back to life as an operation that pays the people who work on it.
Meanwhile, I am thinking about a book that reprints actual to-do lists, and I invite people to send me their actual, authentic lists (not made up for the purposes of contributing) to To-Do List, PO Box 40128, San Francisco, CA 94140. Please include a note describing yourself and the circumstances in which you wrote the list.
FR: What does a person’s to do lists tell you about them?
SC: Reading other people’s lists almost always makes me feel better. It helps to curb my own workaholism. I see either how insane other people are with their lists, and recognize the trait in myself, or, by comparison, realize how much I accomplish. Either way it is a lift. . In their improbable mix of the mundane and the meaningful, to-do lists are a window into another human being’s private world, into her (and more often than not, to-do list writers seem to be women) ambitions, desires, failings, poor memory (the need to remind herself of the smallest task), and our imperfect humanity. Everyone writes to-do lists. These scratched-off catalogs are like diaries, except there’s no artifice, no arranging, no clear narrative or storytelling: they’re the most spare kind of a diary, private little scratched out versions of our lives.
Once the magazine started to gain attention, I realized that To-Do List was tapping into a community of readers who had never really been named or identified: the listmaker personality. People can become pretty identified with their lists. Husbands make fun of wives for listmaking. People store boxes full of them. An older man sent in a story about finding lists in his deceased father’s pockets, and what the lists told him about his dad. A gay man wrote about the coded lists he wrote as a teenager.
NPR’s “All Things Considered” asked me to be on their show on New Year’s Day 2002 to talk about making lists of New Year’s Resolutions. Noah Adams and I talked about some of the craziest lists we had ever received and the kinds of things I put on my to-do lists. The response from that one radio interview blew me away. Suddenly donations were streaming in — enough to help us pay our printer bill for the third issue. . All of these people were so incredibly excited that a private part of themselves — a facet of their personality sometimes mocked by significant others and family members — was a shared experience, and that someone had actually made a magazine that printed to-do lists. About a dozen people sent in checks for $100 without even having seen the magazine. They were just so happy someone had started a magazine about lists and wanted to support it!
FR: Do you have a favorite to do list?
SC: Yes, the very first person who sent us lists, Rebecca, who lived in Berkeley, continued to send in the most beautiful lists for years. She once even sent in a whole mini-notebook. Her lists are really aesthetic and have the most unexpected items on them. They’re a work of art.
FR: Does running To-Do List make you intimidated to write your own to do lists?
SC: No, it’s just made me more conscious of my own to-do-list-writing style, and that I have become progressively more reliant on them — especially when I’m tackling a big creative project.
FR: What was the last to-do list you wrote?
SC: I’m starting to do more freelance writing now, and trying to figure out what next to do with my life. Here’s the latest mega-list of various projects that I may take on. This was written on a computer. I write lists in Microsoft Word when I’m really trying to organize my to-do items in various categories.
*** PITCHES I CAN MAKE AND STORIES I CAN WRITE Hooping story Rhode Island magazine expatriate story Mr. Best Ever for Men’s Health (talk to Doug next time I see him) Writer’s breakdowns after their books come out (Poets and Writers) — ask Dr. Gray for stories Insomnia essay for SELF — write Paula Derrow and make sure she would be interested …. . . also look at the stuff that I have already written Meditation and insomnia for Natural Health or Breathe — write that editor and ask for copy—and send her clips
PRACTICAL THINGS TO DO Make photocopies of SF Chronicle Magazine piece, Men’s Health, and 7 x 7
FOR QUIRKYALONE Publicize RI and NY Events — write up listings and send them to the bookstores and media in NY and RI
TO-DO LIST BOOK PROJECT To-Do List book project — email self what I have written and put together a brief proposal to send to Jill in advance of our meeting, also scan in some of the best lists. Find a place to do this scanning! (Can I scan in a whole bunch at Jenny’s house and it won’t be a problem?)
FINISH TO-DO LIST INTERVIEW
FR: Is a person who makes lists a different type of person from a person who does not?
SC: There are different kinds of listmakers. There are people who make lists just to help them get through the day; there are also list-makers who just love making lists. It’s a fun activity for them to go to a café and make lists about the magazines they want to subscribe to or the places they want to visit. I recently interviewed a woman about things she loves to do alone, and she answered, “I really value time alone so I can sit in my room and make to-do lists.”
Men make lists, but on the whole, more women make them. I think that’s a reflection of how much women multitask — they’re mothers and workers and friends and so many other things. Men multitask too, but most don’t to the extent that women do.
FR: What makes you laugh?
SC: A good corny joke that is just goofy enough.
FR: What is a good charity to give money to?
SC: There are so many right now. Obviously there are a lot of organizations that are doing great work and we need their work so much in the Bush era. If I have to choose one, I would say organizations that are helping women and men who are in welfare reform get better training and child care to support them as time limits on their benefits run out. And of course you can always donate to an independent magazine! They need every penny!
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Quirkyalone: A Manifesto for Uncompromising Romantics URL: http://quirkyalone.net
I became inspired to make The Naked Feminist after reading a magazine article on the famous porn star, Nina Hartley, declaring her feminist sensibilities and strengths as a sex entertainer and educator — a career spanning over 17 years. I wanted to know if Nina was a rare exception in this male dominated industry.
Feminism‚ is a somewhat contentious term that different people define in different ways. From your film, I get the sense that you define it in terms of being empowered and in control of oneself. Would you say that’s a pretty accurate characterization of your definition?
I think feminism for many women means different things, but for me it is essentially about choice and giving women a voice. I think once a woman has her voice and can make choices for herself, then empowerment, self-identity, and courage will follow.
Why did you choose the particular actresses you used in your film? They seem like a fairly close-knit group, which I found very interesting. It made the pornography film industry seem much smaller than I imagined.
It was important for me to interview women who had a number of years experience in the industry so I could gauge the progress (or lack of progress) women had made in the adult entertainment industry.
Once I met Jane Hamilton and read about CLUB 90, I became completely inspired by this group of renegade female sex performers. They had created the first porn star support group for women. They have not only created a strong sisterhood amongst themselves, but [they] also have become incredible mentors and role models to other women in the industry. I consider these women to be the first feminists in the industry, and of course their voices are a crucial element in a film depicting feminist sensibilities within the world of adult entertainment. [Like Jane Hamilton,] Nina Hartley, Sharon Mitchell and Christi Lake … [have] all made incredible strides within the industry – Nina as a sex radical, performer, educator and mentor, Sharon co-founding the first medical clinic devoted to the health and emotional needs of people in the industry, and Christi through her political activism and entrepreneurial insight.
All industries are much smaller and [more] tightly knit than they seem, and this is fairly evident once you start working within mainstream Hollywood and similarly with the adult entertainment industry — especially within the same country. However, I think it is even more so with the adult entertainment industry as the people within that industry have been under attack from legislators, the government, and the public far more than any other industry and thus have banded together to fight for freedom of speech and other essential rights such as freedom of expression.
The adult entertainment industry is also an industry where the performers, especially the women, are breaking one of the biggest taboo a woman can break — that is having sex on camera for money … Since only a small percentage of women enter into this occupation, they are going to get to know each other and some will form bonds.
There is a peculiar absence of men in your film — aside from Seymour Butts — even though men are an integral component of the porn industry as both producers and consumers. The absence of men in The Naked Feminist seems to be a smart stylistic move to depict women as the agents of the porn industry and their stories. Did you consider interviewing other men besides Seymour, and if so, why are they not included in the edited version of the film? If not, why? And what is so special about Seymour that caused him to make the cut?
I interviewed a number of men — journalists, directors, writers, and performers in the adult entertainment industry, and they were included in every cut except for my final cut … I made this film to give women in the industry a voice, and I didn’t want to lose sight of that. Thus, if a woman spoke about a similar experience or point of view as a man [I interviewed], I chose to keep in the woman’s voice. This film is about [the women in the pornography industry] and their experiences, not the men’s. Even though I do consider [the men’s] viewpoints and experiences to also be incredibly valid, they essentially didn’t belong in this film.
Seymour Butts has one big specialty in my opinion. No, only joking. The reason I was so interested in keeping Seymour in the film was because of his huge female fan base. Even though his main target audience is men, he has all these women that love him and his porn films. When you go to the big adult entertainment conventions it is always astounding to see the number of women — of all ages and nationalities — waiting to get autographs from him. It was nice to illustrate this role reversal and disprove the right wing feminist mantra that no women like pornography.
I noticed that The Naked Feminist doesn’t explicitly address homosexuality and lesbian erotica. However, from what I have read, queer porn is particularly important for women and men who are questioning their sexuality or who are insecure about being involved with members of the same sex. Do you think there is any particular reason why your film ended up having a heterosexual slant?
I don’t think The Naked Feminist explicitly addresses heterosexual erotica either, but you are right, that it is the main genre of pornography that is delved into. That is mainly because heterosexual pornography is the most popular and most historic type of pornography out there. But this was not at all intentional. I did not look at sexual orientation when I made this film. I was more interested in the female sexual pioneers and entrepreneurs who had made an impact on the industry and made working conditions for women better or who were making strides in today’s mainstream porn world. There are so many sub-genres in pornography and I am sure that many women and men are empowered by the different types. However, that discussion is, I believe, for another film. However, I would like to add that many of the women interviewed are gay, bisexual, polysexual and heterosexual. A wonderful mix really.
Your documentary argues that some pornography is in fact misogynistic and that such films are not the type of porn that the women you interviewed condone. How can one differentiate between misogynistic and non-misogynistic porn? The presence of violence? Consent (or the lack thereof)? Women both in front of and behind the camera? Or just the gut reaction of women involved in the film?
Subjectivity, taste, and consent will always creep into discussions regarding pornography and especially pornography and misogyny. I don’t think there is one exact definition of misogynist porn, and I don’t think there is a sub-genre [that] supports it. However, when I was making this film, I did encounter a disturbing trend in the industry to push the boundaries of sexual violence towards women as far as possible. I think this is mainly a knee-jerk shock tactic to gain notoriety in the business, and it might possibly exist as a backlash against the positive strides that women have made in the industry. I don’t believe that the companies making this stuff represent the industry as a whole. However, the fact that this type of material (e.g. women being beaten to a pulp whilst being gang raped, made to vomit whilst giving oral [sex] and [being] punched around the head) is being produced saddens me, and in my opinion, it is misogynist as it is illustrating a hatred towards women.
Do you sense some urgency to disrupt the taboo associated with pornography in general, or is your goal merely to enable the women you interviewed to speak their stories and perspectives? What is it that you seek to contribute to the ongoing dialogue regarding sex and sexuality in Western culture (if anything)?
I made The Naked Feminist to give the women in pornography a voice. To me, the film is less about breaking down the taboo associated with pornography and more about breaking down the taboo associated with women who chose to be sexual educators and entertainers. When a man chooses to work in pornography, he is rarely viewed as being exploited or objectified. In reality the money shot and the penis are the most objectified aspects of the genre. I really think it is time to get rid of this antiquated double standard.
What, if anything, do you hope to contribute to the independent film industry with The Naked Feminist? Is there anything you hope other filmmakers (adult entertainment or otherwise) will take from seeing your film? Is there anything you hope viewers will take from seeing it?
I would like to contribute tolerance and acceptance to the [feminist] movement. It would be nice if some of the dominant women’s groups would accept these women’s choices, help them to change the system, and make it safer for women instead of denying them their voice and validity.
Performers in the adult film industry are breaking one of the biggest taboos a woman can break: having sex on camera for money. Louisa Achille made her documentary The Naked Feminist to give them a voice.
By Laura Nathan-Garner
A still from The Naked Feminist, a documentary directed by Louisa Achille. Louisa Achille
I became inspired to make The Naked Feminist after reading a magazine article on the famous porn star, Nina Hartley, declaring her feminist sensibilities and strengths as a sex entertainer and educator — a career spanning over seventeen years. I wanted to know if Nina was a rare exception in this male-dominated industry.
Feminism‚ is a somewhat contentious term that different people define in different ways. From your film, I get the sense that you define it in terms of being empowered and in control of oneself. Would you say that’s a pretty accurate characterization of your definition?
I think feminism for many women means different things, but for me it is essentially about choice and giving women a voice. I think once a woman has her voice and can make choices for herself, then empowerment, self-identity, and courage will follow.
Why did you choose the particular actresses you used in your film? They seem like a fairly close-knit group, which I found very interesting. It made the pornography film industry seem much smaller than I imagined.
It was important for me to interview women who had a number of years experience in the industry so I could gauge the progress (or lack of progress) women had made in the adult entertainment industry.
Once I met Jane Hamilton and read about CLUB 90, I became completely inspired by this group of renegade female sex performers. They had created the first porn-star support group for women. They have not only created a strong sisterhood amongst themselves, but [they] also have become incredible mentors and role models to other women in the industry. I consider these women to be the first feminists in the industry, and of course their voices are a crucial element in a film depicting feminist sensibilities within the world of adult entertainment. Nina Hartley, Sharon Mitchell, and Christi Lake [have] all made incredible strides within the industry – Nina as a sex radical, performer, educator, and mentor, Sharon cofounding the first medical clinic devoted to the health and emotional needs of people in the industry, and Christi through her political activism and entrepreneurial insight.
All industries are much smaller and [more] tightly knit than they seem, and this is fairly evident once you start working within mainstream Hollywood, and similarly with the adult entertainment industry — especially within the same country. However, I think it is even more so with the adult entertainment industry, as the people within that industry have been under attack from legislators, the government, and the public far more than any other industry, and thus have banded together to fight for freedom of speech and other essential rights such as freedom of expression.
The adult entertainment industry is also an industry where the performers, especially the women, are breaking one of the biggest taboos a woman can break — that is, having sex on camera for money … Since only a small percentage of women enter into this occupation, they are going to get to know each other, and some will form bonds.
There is a peculiar absence of men in your film — aside from Seymour Butts — even though men are an integral component of the porn industry as both producers and consumers. The absence of men in The Naked Feminist seems to be a smart stylistic move to depict women as the agents of the porn industry and their stories. Did you consider interviewing other men besides Seymour, and if so, why are they not included in the edited version of the film? And what is so special about Seymour that caused him to make the cut?
I interviewed a number of men — journalists, directors, writers, and performers in the adult entertainment industry — and they were included in every cut except for my final cut … I made this film to give women in the industry a voice, and I didn’t want to lose sight of that. Thus, if a woman spoke about a similar experience or point of view as a man [I interviewed], I chose to keep [it] in the woman’s voice. This film is about [the women in the pornography industry] and their experiences, not the men’s. Even though I do consider [the men’s] viewpoints and experiences to also be incredibly valid, they essentially didn’t belong in this film.
Seymour Butts has one big specialty, in my opinion. No, only joking. The reason I was so interested in keeping Seymour in the film was because of his huge female fan base. Even though his main target audience is men, he has all these women that love him and his porn films. When you go to the big adult entertainment conventions, it is always astounding to see the number of women — of all ages and nationalities — waiting to get autographs from him. It was nice to illustrate this role reversal and disprove the right-wing feminist mantra that no women like pornography.
I noticed that The Naked Feminist doesn’t explicitly address homosexuality and lesbian erotica. However, from what I have read, queer porn is particularly important for women and men who are questioning their sexuality or who are insecure about being involved with members of the same sex. Do you think there is any particular reason why your film ended up having a heterosexual slant?
I don’t think The Naked Feminist explicitly addresses heterosexual erotica either, but you are right, that it is the main genre of pornography that is delved into. That is mainly because heterosexual pornography is the most popular and most historic type of pornography out there. But this was not at all intentional. I did not look at sexual orientation when I made this film. I was more interested in the female sexual pioneers and entrepreneurs who had made an impact on the industry and made working conditions for women better, or who were making strides in today’s mainstream porn world. There are so many subgenres in pornography, and I am sure that many women and men are empowered by the different types. However, that discussion is, I believe, for another film…. I would like to add that many of the women interviewed are gay, bisexual, polysexual, and heterosexual. A wonderful mix, really.
Your documentary argues that some pornography is, in fact, misogynistic and that such films are not the type of porn that the women you interviewed condone. How can one differentiate between misogynistic and nonmisogynistic porn? The presence of violence? Consent (or the lack thereof)? Women both in front of and behind the camera? Or just the gut reaction of women involved in the film?
Subjectivity, taste, and consent will always creep into discussions regarding pornography, and especially pornography and misogyny. I don’t think there is one exact definition of misogynist porn, and I don’t think there is a subgenre [that] supports it. However, when I was making this film, I did encounter a disturbing trend in the industry to push the boundaries of sexual violence towards women as far as possible. I think this is mainly a knee-jerk shock tactic to gain notoriety in the business, and it might possibly exist as a backlash against the positive strides that women have made in the industry. I don’t believe that the companies making this stuff represent the industry as a whole. However, the fact that this type of material (e.g., women being beaten to a pulp whilst being gang-raped, made to vomit whilst giving oral [sex], and [being] punched around the head) is being produced saddens me, and in my opinion, it is misogynist, as it is illustrating a hatred towards women.
Do you sense some urgency to disrupt the taboo associated with pornography in general, or is your goal merely to enable the women you interviewed to speak their stories and perspectives? What is it that you seek to contribute to the ongoing dialogue regarding sex and sexuality in Western culture (if anything)?
I made The Naked Feminist to give the women in pornography a voice. To me, the film is less about breaking down the taboo associated with pornography and more about breaking down the taboo associated with women who chose to be sexual educators and entertainers. When a man chooses to work in pornography, he is rarely viewed as being exploited or objectified. In reality, the money shot and the penis are the most objectified aspects of the genre. I really think it is time to get rid of this antiquated double standard.
What, if anything, do you hope to contribute to the independent film industry with The Naked Feminist? Is there anything you hope other filmmakers (adult entertainment or otherwise) will take from seeing your film? Is there anything you hope viewers will take from seeing it?
I would like to contribute tolerance and acceptance to the [feminist] movement. It would be nice if some of the dominant women’s groups would accept these women’s choices, help them to change the system, and make it safer for women instead of denying them their voice and validity.
Best of In The Fray 2004. Being a female sex symbol isn’t easy, but Christi Lake likes to do it. A conversation with the adult film star about reclaiming sex—on and off the camera.
By Laura Nathan-Garner
Christi Lake flirts with a fan-turned-actor on the set.
If sex is supposed to be a bad thing, then why did God make it feel so good?” Christi Lake asks as she puts on her mascara and gets ready for work. If you didn’t know Christi, her remark might sound like the battle cry of the 1960s sexual revolution. But for Christi, who is readying herself for another day at the office—that is, nude before a video camera, where she will have sex with one or two other men or women—this maxim cannot be repeated often enough.
Despite the prolific number of people who use pornography—or, as Christi prefers to call it, “adult materials”—and the virtual disappearance of cultural norms shunning the expression of female sexuality, women who earn their living through sex continue to be stigmatized. Subjected to a double standard that regards men who work in the adult entertainment industry as “real men,” women in the industry are typically characterized as inferior, powerless, and morally bankrupt—at least by outsiders.
Inside the industry, though, the women tell another story. As Christi and her colleagues suggest in Australian filmmaker Louisa Achille’s documentary, The Naked Feminist, just because women like sex and do it for a living doesn’t mean they’re oppressed. It would also be shortsighted to believe that these women were just getting paid to have sex, or that men were directing their every move. In fact, many women, including Christi, are executives, directors, actresses, mentors to other women in the industry, and advocates for safe sex, public health, and free speech. In the wake of the recent HIV outbreak in the industry, many of these women have been promoting condom use and safe sex, encouraging the temporary shutdown of film studios, and calling for change in the industry.
Christi, meanwhile, has taken a leave of absence from her work both in front of and behind the camera. But when I spoke with her recently—over two months after I first met Christi and her mom—her determination and her commitment to her colleagues, her fans, and the right to make and watch adult materials was as strong as ever.
Why did you choose this particular line of work?
Purely [out of] curiosity. I was a connoisseur [of adult entertainment]. I had watched adult videos for my own pleasure for a long time, but this became my profession purely by accident … It wasn’t a chosen direction; it just happened. I was a dancer; I went to a convention, went to some photographers, went to New York and did a photo shoot, and then after the photo shoot, I went to another convention where I met the videographers, and they asked me to come out and do a video for them. So it was really just a chain reaction, not planned. To be honest with you, when [a colleague] and I discussed how many videos we thought we’d do in a year, I thought, “I don’t know—eight? Ten? Fifteen at the most?”
It’s seventy-five.We were very new at this and had no clue what we were getting into. Little did I know.
So it wasn’t a chosen [career path]. It was destiny. I was destined to [be an adult entertainer]. Maybe somewhere down the line, someone watching one of my films sees that I have safe sex with a condom, and next time she is getting ready to have sex and her boyfriend wants to [have sex] without using [a condom], she will say, “No, I saw that film, and Christi used a condom.”
Many of the women in The Naked Feminist argue that one of the reasons adult film is so empowering is that it enables creativity. Is it simply that you’re acting, or do you think there are other reasons why you consider it to foster creativity?
Well, we love ripping off movie titles from the mainstream … and doing parodies. But we also feed the mainstream in a lot of ways. When you get a really bad movie, and they’re all talking about the pizza delivery boy—back in the 1970s, almost every other scene was about the pizza delivery boy. We play into mainstream parodies … and make fun of their movies.
[HBO’s] Six Feet Under is a classic example. When I got the script [for an episode of Six Feet Under‘s second season], I remember it said, “cheesy porno music playing in the background, female star moans and groans …” They were making fun of bad adult films, and I just kind of laughed. And when I did my read for them, I think the reason I got the part was because I have been in these sorts of films, I know what some of the cue words are … When it said “V.O.”—voice over—“moans and groans,” I said, “Is this where you want me to do ‘oh oh oh’ [imitates moaning sounds]?” And I started doing it really loudly and was really funny, and they all laughed. They couldn’t believe I went to that next stage. That had to be the reason they hired me for the part—because I made people laugh … I realize they’re making fun of us, and it gives them something to laugh about, and it was cool.
So [adult filmmaking] is art. It might not be high art, obviously, but some of it can be very creative … I just met a friend who did some of the most beautifully artistically done work with the foot fetish, pouring chocolate over a woman’s toes. And I [said], “You need to put this on somewhere. You need to have people see this; this is beautiful.” It’s so artistic because of the way it’s done. You don’t have to appreciate a foot fetish to appreciate the eroticism of it. So I think we have a very artistic way of doing things …
Many people argue that pornography is oppressive to women because it is used solely for men’s pleasure. What is your response to that criticism?
First off, I hate the word “pornography.” I prefer the term “adult entertainment” … because [people typically associate the term] “pornography” [with] little kids being abused. They don’t remember or think that it’s adult entertainment. They just think of child abuse.
So when people argue that adult material is made for men, well, that’s just not true. I was a viewer myself before I got in the business. I meet more female fans that say, “My boyfriend and I just had a great time. We watched your movie—well, we sort of watched your movie, we watched it for five minutes …” It’s not oppressive to us. Women watch it all the time. I have a huge following of females, so I don’t believe that. I’ve had women say, “Of course we enjoy watching it. We like looking at the hot guys.”
… People use [adult materials] to stimulate foreplay; they use it to spice up their sex lives. Women watch it. They might watch different types of things—maybe—but not necessarily all the time. Because of the Internet and mail-order catalogs, there are at least as many women buying adult materials as there are men.
Many critics of pornography deem your line of work as misogynistic, as degrading toward women, and as targeted at securing pleasure solely for men’s purposes. As a woman in this industry who considers herself a feminist, how do you respond to these charges? Where do you draw the line between misogynistic and nonmisogynistic pornography?
[If the entertainment is] degrading toward the woman, [if it] manipulates [the women involved], then I consider it misogynistic.
If you’re in this industry, you’re told in advance how to approach this. You get an AIDS test, you watch Porno 101, and it is in your hands to decide whether you want to do this particular job or not. When the phone rings and someone says, “I want you to work for me, and I’m going to pay you this amount, and I want you to do this, that, and the other,” you have a right to say no at any moment in that conversation. And I’ve said, “No, I don’t do that type of work.”
[There’s] a man I enjoy spending time with—Max Hardcore. I have not ever worked for him as such, but we’re connected, we joke around. I support him insofar as he has the right to free speech and the right to make whatever he wants to make. Would I work for him? No. Why? Because I don’t enjoy the type of things he provides [for audiences]. He interviewed me to work with him once; he showed me his films. He told me exactly what he expected of me, and he told me he wanted me to do “this, this, and this,” and I looked at him and said, “Oh, no. I don’t think so. I don’t think I can do that. Let me sleep on this.”
I left, went to my boyfriend, who is wonderful, and called the guy the next day and said, “Thank you for the job offer, but that’s really not my thing, and I’m not comfortable doing that.” End of story. I’ve seen him many times since then, and there’s nothing different.
Unfortunately, people who are in this business for the money often make bad choices and then regret [making those choices] later on. And I feel bad for them, but it’s the same thing with someone going into a construction business when he had a bad back already. Well, that’s a bad choice, and you made it, and you have to pay the price.
So [for me] it’s not about doing something for the money. Yes, I do this for a living, but you have to draw the line somewhere in your value system. And most of us do, we really do. We have to. [But] you always hear the stories about “Well, that’s not what I agreed to.” If something makes you uncomfortable, then you should have stopped the film from going on and say, “Stop, that’s not what we agreed to,” and walk away or back it up, and say, “This is what we originally agreed to, and this is what I will do, and either we do this, or I stop.”
… I know girls who enjoy those types of choking holds and all that other stuff. Those are the types of girls who need to work for those types of people. But if you’re not doing it in your private life, you shouldn’t be doing it for your job. Period. That goes for everything. Unless you’ve done it at home and enjoyed the hell out of it, don’t do it for the camera because it’s not worth it.
Christi’s mom: Nightline [did a] documentary following this girl when she first started in the industry, and I was so upset when I saw that. She was into drugs and violence. She was a very extreme case. I had to call Christi and say, “This isn’t true, is it? This is horrible!” It really scared me.
Why do you think those sorts of negative characterizations of women in the adult entertainment industry are more prominent than positive representations of women like yourself, Christi?
Because that’s what people think it is. You have a right to your opinion, and your opinion is somewhat valid. You’re right. That’s one perspective, but there’s another perspective, and that’s that they want ratings. [Adult entertainer] Jenna Jameson has done some wonderful things [helping out with the current HIV crisis in the industry and doing fundraisers], and to me, her work is a true Hollywood story. But you don’t see her on Nightline. You saw the other girl on Nightline because that’s what the news people want to talk about. Who wants to see a happy porn star? It’s like a car accident. [No one wants to pay] attention to the traffic.
I’ve been asked to do many news interviews … but I say, “Unless you can tell me what the questions are going to be in advance and what your tone is going to be for the story, I’m not doing it.” Because if it’s going to be a negative piece, I’ve been burned too many times … I’ve done interviews where I was told this was going to be a positive thing or a mostly positive thing, and it came out negative with very little positive, and I was furious.
Once the guy actually called me to forewarn me that he’d screwed up and that he’d had no choice but to make it this way, and I was like, “Well, I’ll see it; I’ll watch it tonight.” I got phone calls from other girls who had seen it [complaining about the story and its characterization of the industry], and I was so angry and called his machine and filled it up twice. I told him, “I’m never trusting the news media again because of what you’ve done to me. You’ve betrayed me and my friends. How can you do this? You blatantly lied.”
So I think that the media tells people the bad stories [about the pornography industry] because that’s what they want to hear, that’s how they think it is. And by [misrepresenting the pornography industry], their poor little children will be safe at home watching cartoons, even though most cartoons are more violent than anything I’ve ever seen.
How do your parents feel about your line of work?
You know, maybe it’s not the first thing they ever wanted me to do in life—they’ll tell you. Mom?
Christi’s mom: [shakes her head] No.
Christi: But as my dad said when I told my parents what I do for a living, “Why would we be upset about you doing something that we actually watch ourselves?”
And I’m safe. I have a head on my shoulders. I don’t do drugs. I don’t drink alcohol in dangerous amounts. I teach a positive thing. I teach people how to be safe. I help people enhance their pleasure.
And I stand up for what I think is a fundamental right for everybody. It’s like the Mel Gibson movie, [The Passion of the Christ], that just came out … I’m not into religion in any way, shape, or form, but I know the story. I went to see the movie the opening weekend—not to support the Christian bandwagon, but to support Mel Gibson as an artist and to say, “You have every right, whatever your audience thinks, whatever you believe, to put this out there.” And that’s why I went. I always support other people’s [right] to make art. I might not like it. I watched [The Passion of the Christ with my hands] covering the violence and reading the words, and I sat through it. I did see most of it; there were just certain points where I couldn’t watch the violence, where I couldn’t take any more. But that’s okay. He had the right to make and distribute that film.
Tell me a little bit about your boyfriend’s feelings about your career. From The Naked Feminist, I got the impression that he’s perfectly fine with your job.
Yep. When we met, he owned a magazine, and he was interviewing me for his magazine a few years back—five or six years ago. I was already in a relationship, but [that relationship] was on its way out. We had our differences of opinions in terms of the way I wanted to see my career go, and as strong-minded as I am, I decided it was time to go my own way. And it worked out for the best; I’m confident of that. My ex-boyfriend and I are actually now friends and talk as colleagues in the business. We’re not best friends, but we’re colleagues in the business.
But then I kept running into [my current boyfriend] at charity events … so we started dating. And then the magazine wasn’t doing so great, and we were getting more serious. So then I asked him to work for me, taught him how to run the
camera. He already did photography for his magazine, so I taught him how to do the videography part, and he became partners with me.
He was already in the business when he met me, so there were no surprises. I wasn’t trying to say, “By the way, this is what I do.” He already knew, and he accepted it. He looks at me kind of like my mom [does]. I’m an actress. Whatever my job entails is just part of what I do. When the camera stops and the paycheck comes, I go home to him, and he knows that.
One of the things that struck me about The Naked Feminist was that all of the women – all of the adult entertainers – interviewed in the documentary seem to be very close. Tell me a little bit about your relationship with the other women in the industry.
… I’m not sure if I told Janie Hamilton that I was interviewing with Louisa [Achille, director of The Naked Feminist], or if it was the other way around. I don’t remember which way it happened. But either way, because we are friends, [we all ended up being interviewed].
Jane Hamilton is a director I’ve worked for many, many times, and I highly respect Candida Royalle for her initiative, business savvy, and enthusiasm. I mean, [these women] laid the path for my future … and so I know all of them very, very well, as people who respect our industry.
And we’ve taught other girls. Whenever a new girl comes into the industry and … is going through the dilemmas of “Do I want to do this? Do I not want to do this,” I’ll be the first one to take her aside and say, “Look, this is forever. If you have any doubts, walk out of this room right now. Don’t do it. Don’t ever regret your decision to be in this industry because the minute you have a regret, the vultures will tear you up and spit you out.” And I’m honest about that because it’s just like Howard Stern—if he has a guest on his show, and he can find a weakness, he will tear [that person] apart. Our industry is very similar to that … There’s good and bad in everything that you do, but you find the one with more good, the one that works for you.
At my first photo shoot, I met Nina Hartley. I sat and talked to her for a couple of hours. [I said], “Well, I’m thinking about it; I don’t know. I’m just going to do some photos today and see.” And she gave me her wisdom of who I should see if I ever did decide to go further and do films: “If you ever go to California, you’re going to need this, you’re going to need a test.” She informed me of all of the things I would need in advance. So I’m now like the heir apparent to Nina Hartley … and I guess someday [they’ll] need to find an heir apparent to me. [Laughs] So she taught me all of that, and now I make it a point to [mentor] other new women.
Tell me a little bit about why you agreed to be interviewed for The Naked Feminist.
… Actually, I’ve been interviewed for a lot of documentaries that have not seen the light of day, and I’m pretty sure that they were all for personal consumption, to say “look what I got someone to do,” or whatever the case may be. Basically a huge waste of my time.
So when Louisa said she wanted to interview me, I asked, “Well, okay, what is it that you want to accomplish with this?” … After [Louisa and I had spoken] for a while, I said, “I’d be happy to take some time to interview with you.” I met her and found that to be an interesting, wonderful experience in and of itself. We became good friends. It wasn’t about the documentary anymore. It was more about creating the friendship to me. And that’s why I’m here [in Austin at the South-by-Southwest Film Festival]. I normally require a fee for me to do appearances like this, but I told Louisa, “If there’s anything I can do for you, to help you promote your movie …” I would even email her suggestions because I wanted to help her get [The Naked Feminist] out there … And that was when I hadn’t seen the movie yet completed … So now she’s made this wonderful, interesting documentary that I want the world to see for her.
Making The Naked Feminist was a bit of a family affair for you. Your mother is also interviewed in the film. Did she want to be?
Oh, no, I didn’t offer my mother up as a sacrificial lamb. [Louisa] asked if I would ask my mother if she was willing to be interviewed. [My mom has] done radio stuff with me, when I’ve [been] interviewed on the radio, so I said, “Well, I’ll ask her.” So I asked her if she was [willing to be] interviewed on camera. It took her about forty seconds to think about it, then she said, “Well, sure, we’re going to be in town anyway.”
Were you nervous about what they were going to ask you?
Christi’s mom: Well, somewhat. But it wasn’t exactly the first time I’d done something like this. When she got the award a few years ago, she had my husband and I come up on stage with her to receive her award with her.
Christi:[Laughs] Yeah, it was a very proud moment. Every year the Free Speech Coalition presents an award to someone in the industry who has set a positive [example], an activist who has done good work to promote the positive face of adult entertainment.
Four years ago I was the recipient of [the award], and I asked my parents to come out and be there for me. But when it came time to receive my award, I looked at my mom and said, “Mom, do you want to come onstage with me to get this award? Because you’re the one who taught me right from wrong, and who I am, and what I’ve become today.”
And she said, “I don’t know, ask your father.” So I said, “Dad, do you and Mom want to come onstage with me when I [receive] my award?” And my dad said, “Hell, yeah!” He’d already had a couple of drinks, and he did the Rocky thing [putting arms up in the air] …
What is it that you would like viewers to take from seeing The Naked Feminist?
The United States was created due to a lack of tolerance. And then we come over here, and we’ve started becoming more stringent … now we’re back where we started.
These days there isn’t really a single definition of what it means to be a feminist. There just isn’t; it’s an individual interpretation of what feminism means. It’s the same thing with religion and anything else. But you have to tolerate the other person, [whether that person] is a lesbian, is gay, or whatever. If someone is straight as an arrow and has five kids, they aren’t any better than a lesbian. They just have different lifestyles, and we have to tolerate each other’s differences as such.
So when everyone walks in to see this movie, they’re going to have a set mindset. They’ll have their values and opinions. I want them to leave with a broader sense of tolerance and acceptance of other people for who and what they are no matter who and what they are. I hope viewers will be enlightened and more tolerant after seeing The Naked Feminist.
Recently InTheFray Contributing Writer Jairus Grove spoke with Rebecca Carroll about Saving the Race, The Souls of Black Folk, and the role that race plays in our world.
The interviewer: Jairus Victor Grove, InTheFray Contributing Writer The interviewee:Rebecca Carroll, editor/author of Saving the Race: Conversations on Du Bois from a Collective Memoir of Souls.
To read Jairus Victor Grove’s review of Rebecca Carroll’s Saving the Race: Conversations on Du Bois from a Collective Memoir of Souls, click here.
The diversity of experiences expressed in this book alone calls into question the coherence of ideas like black identity or black community. What political utility do you think these concepts have after your engagement with this project?
I think the idea of a “political utility” in the context of race is counterproductive — and in terms of the coherence of an idea like black identity or black community, neither is an idea so much as a lived experience; an experience that can be defined and internalized individually as one is inclined to do so.
The recent rise to prominence of black conservatives such as Condoleeza Rice, Ward Connelly, and Clarence Thomas seems to reflect a Republican agenda to divide traditionally Democratic and progressive communities, both Black and Hispanic. Do you believe blackness is intrinsically political? If so, how do we keep race political?
If by political you mean involvement with government matters and larger social cause concerns, I don’t believe blackness is any more intrinsically political than human nature.
There is a definitive moment in your own narrative where you say that you decided or felt the conviction that you were a black woman. In our increasingly hybrid times, claims to identity require some history or heritage to be sacrificed or at least underplayed. Do you think the decision to elevate your blackness to the forefront of your own hybrid identity would have been different or more difficult if your other racial heritage was also marginalized, say, Hispanic or Arabic?
No, if anything I think it would have been easier — there isn’t the same stark contrast and opposition between blacks and Hispanics/Arabs as there is between blacks and whites.
Although this book makes a convincing and complex case for the necessity of blackness as at least a way of thinking through an existence marked by skin color and the trauma of survival, what is next? Too often the imagination of a world without race is simply a world of whiteness. Is it time to imagine what is to come after race? If so, do you have any ideas resulting from this work particularly your conversations with LeAlan Jones and others who make reference to the need to begin imagining what a world without race looks like?
I don’t think LeAlan was suggesting a world without race, but rather a world in which race was more interconnected, more blurred, better understood, and less blatantly segregated which, progress being as it may, is still what it is. So no, I don’t think we need to begin imagining what a world without race looks like; I think we need to start imagining what a world WITH race looks like.
To read Jairus Victor Grove’s review of Rebecca Carroll’s Saving the Race: Conversations on Du Bois from a Collective Memoir of Souls, click here.
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The interviewer Jairus Victor Grove, InTheFray Contributing Writer
Recently, InTheFray Contributing Writer Laura Louison spoke with David Shipler about The Working Poor, the upcoming election, and the potential for investigative journalism to effectuate change:
The interviewer: Laura Louison, InTheFray Contributing Writer
The interviewee: David Shipler, author of The Working Poor
In the introduction to The Working Poor you state that you were curious about working people who’d been left behind as the economic boom took off and as welfare reform was put in place. Tell me a little bit about your incentives for undertaking this project and your reaction to what you learned through your research.
My incentive is part of a quest to understand my own country. I was working abroad for many years, and then covering foreign policy after I returned. I began to feel that that subject was too vicarious, and what I liked to do when I was living overseas as well, [was] write about the country I was living in. Since I was living in the United States, I wanted to focus on the most vexing problems facing America, so I began with race relations, and wrote A Country of Strangers, which was published in 1997, that [raised many] questions of poverty. I think both those issues are enormous ones for this country, and I wanted to try and understand them as well as I could. When I set out to write about poverty, I felt that since that particular condition was freighted with so much ethical baggage — that is, the idea of work as a moral enterprise in this society, and so many poor are vilified for not working, that I would try to remove as much of the moral element from the equation as I could by looking at only the people who were working, or who were [working] periodically at least, and trying to get ahead that way. So that was my motive for focusing on the poor or nearly poor, who were actually at work.
As for what I found, well that’s a very big question with a very big and long answer. I’m a liberal, but I’m also a reporter so what I tried to do was to take my ideological lens and put it aside, and look with clear eyes, if I could, at this condition, this situation, and talk to people about what forces converged upon them to bring them where they were — namely working, but not able to move out of that zone of the edge of poverty. And what I found was that the forces were both societal and personal. That is, there were failures of the society’s institutions: public education, private enterprise, government services — and there were also terrible family problems that weighed people down and created in them legacies of hardship and disability from which they found it difficult to recover. [The] whole pattern [of domestic violence, for instance,] is tied in with alcoholism often, drug abuse, and so forth. I think [this cycle] affects people’s ability to function well in the economic marketplace.
So many women told me they had been sexually abused as children, and they had to say that, I think, as a way of explaining why they distrusted men — no surprise – and why they had difficulty forming lasting relationships. [This] has both an emotional and an economic consequence. If you’re earning low wages, and you’re part of a family that has two or three wage earners, that’s one thing, but if you’re a single wage earner, that’s quite a different thing. So, that realization that the problems of these folks really encompassed a broad array of issues, both those that are family-based and those that are societally based, led me to a couple of conclusions.
One was that the best way to address the issues was to reform not only societal institutions and policies, but also to provide services that could help people recover personally. And you know, if institutions where [poor] people go very often — schools, medical clinics, so forth — can become gateways to arrays of services, either containing them under one roof or at least referring people to services, and trying to address the whole range of problems that a given person or family faces, then some headway can be made, I think. The other [conclusion] is that in the political arena — and this sounds like a very naïve thing to say in an election year — that liberals and conservatives have to stop shouting at each other and start listening to each other if any headway’s going to be made here.
I find a lot of liberals — and this does not include people who actually do anti-poverty work who actually understand the problems — who are rather doctrinaire, and I’m one. I’m not doctrinaire, but I’m a liberal and tend not to want the family’s individual failures, and conservatives tend to see only those [failures, ignoring] the societal issues. If liberals and conservatives — and I include here conservatives who really want to do something, and not those who say, “Well, it’s their fault therefore we don’t have any obligation,” pieces of the jigsaw puzzle that everyone carries around, then they’d have a [complete] picture of the whole problem. And only if you define the problem thoroughly, can you invent thorough solutions. So that’s a plea for political dialogue across the ideological lines, which is not a very likely element, but I still think it’s necessary.
It’s also in many ways, I think, a plea for political involvement by people in lower socio-economic classes, which is really not something that I think is possible for many people who are struggling.
Well, I think you’re right … I just did a 568593.story?coll=la-news-comment-opinions”>piece that ran in the L.A. Times about how important it [is] for Kerry to mobilize low-income voters with economic appeals because, as you probably know, the lower you go down in the income strata, the lower the voter turn out, but the higher the Democratic support among those who do turn out. So, it ran in 2000 from 75 percent of eligible voters turning out who earned over $75,000 turning out down to, I think it was 38 percent of those earning under $10,000 a year. And I did a little arithmetic and figured that if, that you could have added 6.8 million voters if those under $25,000 turned out at the same rate as those under $75,000. Of course, there are many reasons that low-income people don’t vote.
Among them, the exhausting lives that they lead, the complex logistics of getting to the polls when they have to juggle strange job shifts and child care and all of that, but I think beyond that there’s a sense of disengagement that exceeds people at other income levels. I mean, it’s a petty universal phenomenon in the United States, that sense of : “What difference is it going to make, the politicians are all the same. I can’t believe them, They’re not talking about my issues.” That’s not [an attitude] restricted to low-income people, but I think those of low-income feel it a little more acutely, and don’t see the connection between a vote and a policy. That’s certainly a key, a key issue in this election year especially I think. And I know there are pro-Democratic organizations, such as Emily’s List and People Coming Together, that are targeting low-income voters, and working on it.
Well, it really taps into the invisibility of poor people that Ann Brash talks about in your book.
A lot of people [feel invisible] I think a lot of people internalize that perception of themselves. They don’t feel that they matter, and that comes out of not just the way that society treats them when they’re poor, but also their own repeated failures. I mean, if you failed in school and in relationships and on the job repeatedly, you don’t have a lot of confidence in your own ability to affect change. The sense of powerlessness is really quite overwhelming. Some people will say that it’s their fault that they are where they are, they’ve made mistakes, they should have done things differently, they’ve saddled themselves with huge debt, and I think that too is an internalization of society’s view of them, and I think it belies their underlying doubt about their ability to make change. It’s like Sara Goddell [and Willie in The Working Poor] who said, “Yes, it’s our fault,” but Sara said she felt powerless to change. I think there are lots of reasons for that. You can encounter this surely in the women you counsel, this sense of powerlessness?
[That’s certainly an integral dynamic of] domestic violence because you give power over your life to an intimate partner. But most of the women I work with are people who, once they get to me, are system veterans — people the system has failed at many levels — and so I think they don’t see themselves as powerful in their relationships, but that’s also part of a whole dynamic. They don’t see themselves as powerful in relation to their welfare worker, [or] in relation to their children and youth worker … The list goes on and on and on.
I wonder if you looked at the way they were parented, whether that sense of powerlessness began there. That the parents, or the parent, or the older grandmother, or whoever was the primary caregiver, took from them the decision-making abilities, or the right to control what they could control. You know, people who have looked at the patterns of play in children, and who use play therapy, have seen how important it is to let a child set the course of play, make some decisions, and have the decisions impact the way the adult interacts with the child. So the child does something, the adult interacts, reacts, and then there’s a circle of interaction, and the child then reacts and does something else, and so forth. That kind of play may not happen in certain families. I don’t know if it’s based on socio-economic levels — but I’m sure, it’s a lack that exists at other economic levels as well — but for people who are poor and have a lot of other issues piling up on them, that one can help to create a whole syndrome.
I’ve interviewed women who got pregnant in high school and dropped out and had babies out of wedlock, who if you talk to them for a while, you can’t help feeling that they were making choices but they either didn’t realize they were making choices, or didn’t realize the long-term impact of the choices, or made choices consciously for the wrong reasons, or were trying to gain autonomy or some kind of independence, a posture from their mother who’s on their case all the time. A lot of low-income parents are highly anxious about their kids, and are deeply afraid of their kids going astray, and react to that possibility with so much anxiety that they’re constantly telling their kids, “No, no, no,” when they live in dangerous neighborhoods, or are tempted by drugs and so forth. I’m thinking about a woman who dropped out of school, and when her daughter dropped out of school, she was just devastated. Her daughter wasn’t pregnant, but in terms of dropping out of school she was following her mother’s pattern, and it was just heartbreaking for her mother to see this happening.
I imagine that if you live in an environment where risks are very rarely rewarded, you’re reluctant to have your children take those risks because it seems like a very scary prospect.
Yeah. The risks are really foolhardy risks, not really risks [that are going] to pay dividends, the kinds of risks that nobody would want their kids to take. I think also you get another pattern here, too, especially in inner-city neighborhoods, of aggressive, pre-emptive anger. You protect yourself by getting in the other guy’s face before he gets in yours. That whole methodology works very well in the street but it doesn’t work at all well in the school or on the job. I remember visiting a school in Baltimore — I think it was a middle school — and talking to kids who were peer counselors, and they were interesting because they were doing mediation with kids who got tin fights, and they had to use techniques, or recommend ways of thinking that [contradicted] what they had all been taught by their mothers, their fathers, their older brothers as methods of survival on the street. So it was almost a code-switching operation where they walked to school every day and they got in everybody’s face, and they got to walk through the school doors and to function there. At least according to the rules [they got] to function with the adults in the school, they had to take a completely different approach. Of course, then there were all the other kids in school and they still had to get in their face. So it was really complicated. How do you sort that out?
And then, on the job, anger management is a big issue. It’s a huge problem for many low-income workers, and it’s one that employers are not equipped to deal with for the most part. So all of that comes into play, and I don’t know how you address it really. It’s very complicated.
To take a different tack, I was curious about what intersections you saw between race and poverty, or ethnicity and poverty. I know that the subjects in your book come from many different backgrounds in terms of language, age — and I know that you’ve written about race issues in America in the past.
(Laughs) At 600 pages about racial issues, I figured I had pretty much covered that subject. I didn’t really set out to ignore race in the book, or even play it down. But I went about this book by trying to find common ground among the experiences of the various demographic groups. So, I went to rural areas, I went to urban areas, to different occupations — agriculture, manufacturing, service. I went to blacks and Latinos and Asians and whites, men and women — although women dominate, as they do dominate the ranks of the poor in the United States in terms of households. [I] began to [see] themes transcending all of these categories. There were certainly differences, in terms of migrant workers in California and native-born Americans in South Washington, D.C., or New Hampshire. But there were also themes that ran through all these folks’ lives. I began to feel that given all that has been written by a whole lot of other people, it was important to focus on those themes and to make sure that readers understood that the phenomenon that they were reading about was not one that was limited to a particular racial group, so that they could see that this was a problem that went across cultures and across ethnic lines in the United States.
Having said that, though race is still a huge factor in poverty. The poverty rates among blacks are much higher than with whites, three times [higher], I believe. The school systems in which black kids learn are inferior to the school systems where even low-income white kids learn, in many ways. The degree of neighborhood dysfunction, if you can call it that, is more severe for blacks than whites, [though in many cases, not all, there are certainly bad neighborhoods for whites, too.] That is, the external factors are powerfully lined up against blacks.
In addition, there’s a whole pattern of discrimination in jobs and elsewhere in other parts of the society and other parts of life that weigh on blacks in a way that whites just never experience. The sense of marginalization, the difficulty of either getting a job or getting a promotion. [For instance, at] the rubber company [I visited in] Cleveland, the foremen are white, and there are black workers, and there are racial tensions. And the [boss] couldn’t explain why his foremen were white, but he acknowledged that this was an issue, a problem. So there’s a power structure thing, [and] all these factors make it more difficult for blacks.
The other part of this is the issue of net worth, which isn’t something that’s been explored sufficiently and is not a factor in determining the poverty line, and it should be. They hadn’t updated figures when I did this book, but the median net worth of white families in the United States versus the median net worth of black families with the same education level, and same income, is usually different. And I think that you can describe poverty not only as income but also as debt and net worth, because that has a huge psychological effect as well as a financial one, so that people carrying a whole lot of debt feel imprisoned by that and don’t see possibility and opportunity as attainable. Unless that gets thrown in the mix, you don’t have a full picture. You know the income gives you a still photograph of the present, but the debt gives you a longitudinal picture of what’s happened in the past. And people can argue that if you have debt, you’ve brought that on yourself. Part of that is sometimes true, when people run up huge credit card balances and can’t pay them, but if you’ve been poor and you don’t have medical care, and you have to go to the emergency room, and you don’t have insurance, they have to treat you, but they can also bill you, which means that if you can’t pay, that goes on your credit report. There’s this [white] guy Willy in New Hampshire, who had a pretty good job as a roofer, but he had this $10,000 debt from emergency rooms when his teeth were abscessed and he couldn’t afford to go the dentist. He couldn’t even get a phone installed in his own name because he had this debt, even though he had a fairly decent job at the time.
Black families coming out of the situation of deep poverty tend to carry with them debt, and you know everyone does, but they especially have that burden.
It’s not something that we talk about very much. Certainly the picture that a lot of politicians love to paint is that it’s sort of the black welfare queen, and statistics show pretty much across the board that white families are predominantly the largest force receiving public assistance.
Sure, there are many more whites in the country. More than half the poor in America are white. I remember when I did the race book I was in Alabama, [the city council was voting for some kind of benefit]. This black councilman took [a] white council man [who didn’t want to vote for the benefit] to the welfare office one day, knowing that most of the people there were going to be white, and the white guy was stunned.
I know that you were involved in your subjects’ lives for several years, and to go between that and your own life must have felt like quite a disconnect at times. What was like for you to move between two such different worlds?
It was difficult in a way, although my mother once told me that she had raised me to be comfortable whether I was in an embassy or a hut. (Laughs) And I think she succeeded, I’ve been in both in many parts of the world. She also taught me that you can learn something from everyone, and I learned a tremendous amount from these folks, and I admire many of them. I like them very much. I’m still in touch with a lot of them. It’s been a great education and growing personal experience for me.
At the same time I’m a reporter and a journalist, so I needed to restrain my impulse to open my wallet sometimes and just give them money. I think if anyone had been on the edge of real disaster, I probably would have just done that, but nobody was that I knew of, at least by talking to them.
I couldn’t pay them because it was just unethical. But what I have done since the book’s come out is give money to anti-poverty organizations. I’ve given part of the royalties in large enough chunks so that it can make a difference in programs. I’ve been in touch with organizations to find out what they would if they had some money that they can’t do now, so there are a couple of things going on that weren’t going on before, and I’m very happy to be able to do that. I think that money is most useful when it goes to an organization that can match it or can use it to get another grant to do something that they hadn’t been able to do.
For instance, the Korean immigrants group in L.A. that wants to start an organizing school for Korean grocery workers, to help them learn how to organize and learn what their rights [are], and possibly unionize. I gave them a grant to start that, and there’s a malnutrition clinic in Baltimore that had not been able to do any home visiting because they’d had some money for a while but then they’d lost it. So I talked with the director for a while to figure out how to give them money to fund a half-time person for a year. This is not extravagant, but they’ve now gone into partnership with the School of Nursing at the University of Maryland to get a person who will be seeing patients in the malnutrition clinic, and then will follow some of them home or go off and do home visits, to see the liaison and connection and interaction in the home which you know is very important in dealing with malnutrition. And then there [are] some other organizations I haven’t yet contacted or [that] haven’t gotten back to me that I’m trying to figure out how to best help.
The websites for these organizations [I’m helping] are on the Knopf website linked to my book so people learn more].
So from my standpoint, I don’t think [a book like mine] can turn around the lives of individual people. I wish it could, but it doesn’t. But I hope that the issue will be dated in a certain way. The book will be used to call attention to some issues and might have a policy impact eventually. I’m not sure whether that’s really going to happen, but it’s not really the reason I did it either. The reason I did it was to satisfy my own curiosity. That’s why you do a book. So you’re curious about it, and you want to understand it.
But to get back to your original question, yes, I felt very odd moving back and forth between the two worlds. I think it was Ann Brash who says that you know five dollars is big, and 25 is amazing, and that’s a huge amount. It was painful in many ways to watch people going through hell again and again.
It can be hard not to take that home with you.
Well, I did take that home with me. My wife’s a social worker, and she doesn’t deal most of the time with people who are in poverty. She does family therapy, so a lot of the issues I encountered were issues she’d dealt with in different forms. And we talked a lot about what I was learning. I always do when I do a book. She feels as if by the time she gets around to reading the manuscript, she already knows everything. And I always take these things home with me.
STORY INDEX
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Recently, InTheFray Editor Laura Nathan interviewed David Bezmozgis about his debut collection of short stories, Natasha and Other Stories. Their conversation — and Bezmozgis’ thoughts on “home,” what it means to be a Jew, and writing — follows:
The interviewer: Laura Nathan, InTheFray Editor The interviewee: David Bezmozgis, author, Natasha and Other Stories
Though the stories in Natasha are fictional, the similarities between the Bermans’ life and your own suggest that writing this must have been a very personal experience — one that you seem to be somewhat critical of. Tell me a little bit about what inspired you to write Natasha.
I wrote Natasha because I had wanted for a very long time to write about my community. As far as I knew there had been nothing written about the Soviet Jewish immigration in English – though there had been books in Russian and, I believe, Hebrew. As a reader of American Jewish fiction, I had seen previous generations of Jewish immigrants treated and, inspired by that, wished to do the same for my own community.
As for being “somewhat critical,” I am “somewhat critical” about everything. But the distinction, perhaps unintended on your part, between “somewhat critical” and “critical” is an important one. In the totality of the immigrant experience there are things to both criticize and admire. As with any experience — if observed honestly.
Natasha repeatedly comes back to the centrality of the Holocaust in defining what it means to be a Jew. Why do you think this is the case, and what are the dangers (if any) of this tendency? Also, as an emigrant, is this a phenomenon that you’ve found to be unique to North America?
The Holocaust is an undeniable part of Jewish identity. To think otherwise is naïve and to suggest that it could or should be otherwise is offensive. However, the Holocaust is hardly the only thing that defines Jewish experience. There is, obviously, much more. We are talking here of a people who have a history of several millenia and who have in many ways influenced Western thought and culture.
Now as for why the Holocaust and the Second World War feature in Natasha I think you need to understand the Russian (Latvian) Jewish experience. Latvian Jews (and Western Russian Jews) suffered, like most Eastern European Jews, from the Nazis. Those who did not evacuate or join the Red Army were exterminated. And those who evacuated lived in the eastern depths of Russia, sent their sons and husbands to the front, and — at the war’s conclusion — returned home to find that home no longer existed. This happened only 60 years ago. These people are still alive. The experience is central to who they are. How could is be otherwise? The experience (if only of the Great Patriotic War) was made central to the education of their children. To this day, speaking to my grandfather or his friends, talk of the war is common. It has marked them permanently.
As for dangers of this tendency to invoke the war and the Holocaust — I think any gratuitous invocation is dangerous. But I think just as dangerous is any reactionary tendency to begrudge these people the right to speak about their past.
Twenty-four years after emigrating from the Soviet Union, do you find that you have fully assimilated into the North American Jewish community, or do you still feel like an outsider at times?
Your word “fully” presupposes a lot. As much as possible, the local Jewish communities invited the Russian Jews to assimilate. I think “full” assimilation is not possible. I don’t think most Russians wanted to assimilate “fully” because that would entail abandoning their Russian past — a past which incorporates culture, language, history. So, as far as I know, most Russian immigrants of my parents’ generation keep as their intimate friends other Russian immigrants. But they have, to various degrees embraced the North American lifestyle. They now eat more salads and use less butter.
As for my “embrace” of Judaism and Jewishness, I have no doubt that by living in North America my identity as a Jew is much stronger and more informed. But as for “full assimilation” I don’t think I have the temperament to assimilate fully into anything. I would argue that this is common to most writers and artists. Some amount of objectivity is probably genetically programmed.
Fighting, violence, and aggression play an important role in Natasha. Tell me a little bit about what inspired your interest in this sort of sadism and why it plays such an import role in your stories.
Sadism?
As a Russian-turn-Canadian who has now resettled in California, do you find that there are differences between Jewish communities in Canada and those in the United States? If so, what are those differences?
Well, I no longer live in California, though I did live there for five years. I now live in Toronto where I find no discernible difference between American and Canadian Jews. I am told that the Canadian version is slightly more conservative in religion and politics. This may be true. But on the whole, communities of middle class Jews are the same. And communities of lower class Jews are probably also the same. The distinction that interests me is one of class, not nationality.
The émigré experience — that sense of loss of home and the quest for a new identity — in Natasha is, of course, centered around the Jewish Soviet émigré experience, but many of Mark’s experiences seem to extend beyond the struggles with religious identity. How, if at all, might your stories be read by other (non-Soviet/non-Jewish) émigrés, by other people who are struggling to discover a sense of belonging in a place that, at times, feels nothing like home?
With only two exceptions — “An Animal to the Memory” and “Minyan” — I think all of the stories are secular. Meaning, in order to understand them you require no background in Judaism as a religion. I live a secular life. My concerns, almost exclusively, are secular concerns. I think the stories reflect this. Though set in the Russian community, the stories are mostly about basic struggles – get work, learn a language, find and survive love. I think these are things common to all immigrants and, really, most people. These are not stories of existential conflict; they deal instead with a pursuit of concrete things. Generally, I am not interested in existential conflict (although I just finished reading a book called Rituals by Cees Nooteboom which was exceptional.)
Throughout Natasha you allude to the question of what it means to a Jew. With all of your experience as an émigré and a writer, what do you think it means to be a Jew? How do you define Jewish identity? And do you think that definition can ever be generalized or applied to the Jewish community as a whole? Why or why not?
… Some of the stories certainly deal with is the question of what it means to be a Jew. As for what a Jew is, I always think of the answer Rabbi Hillel gave in response to a similar question. The question was posed by gentile and I believe he asked if Rabbi Hillel could teach him the whole Torah while standing on one foot. (Already a good story, and even Jewish in its comic irony.) Hillel said: That which is hateful to you, do not do to your neighbor. That is the whole Torah; the rest is commentary. Go learn.”
To my understanding, then, to be a Jew involves not hurting others and learning perpetually.
Throughout Natasha you allude to the way in which people barter Judaism, the way in which they say things like “I’m a Jew,” or “I’m a good Jew,” to get ahead or to get what they need. When you allude to this tendency, you seem to do so with both an emphasis on the necessity of doing so for the new immigrant and with a critical eye toward opportunists. Would you mind elaborating a little on how you think this sort of behavior implicates the formation of a community, Jewish or otherwise, and what it says about the question of what it means to be a Jew?
People barter all the time. Life is a series of power transactions. This is not limited to Jews. If people were patient with one another and understood one another it would be different. (See above for Rabbi Hillel.) But this will never happen. The only compensation for the pain is if one can look at all of this with some level of objectivity and accept that the misunderstandings are often what make life interesting. That these misunderstandings are indeed the conflict which writers term “conflict.”
What are you working on now? Do you think that you’ll continue to write about the émigré experience, or do you see yourself moving onto other matters?
I am working on a novel. Though I am reticent to say to much, the subject matter is related to Natasha. I think I will continue to write about my particular émigré experience. Or, at least, this particular community. I will probably write about other things as well — though perhaps more in film than prose.
STORY INDEX
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The interviewer Laura Nathan, InTheFray Editor
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Natasha and Other Stories by David Bezmozgis URL: http://www.powells.com/cgi-bin/biblio?inkey=62-0374281416-0 "
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A conversation with Tom Hayden on being stirred by bullies and killers. 
