The drop in the ocean, or the drop that wears away the stone? Street Harassment

I have been very conflicted about this topic for a while. Mostly, because I wasn’t sure of how significant it was in comparison to other issues, and whether this significance merited  the amount of feminist responses, initiatives and organisations that have developed over the years (Hollaback, Stop Street Harassment, Pro Change, to name a few).

Obviously, this is a problem that concerns all women, whether cis or trans, femme or butch, coloured of colour or white, or androgynous looking (even “feminine” looking men)… The list goes on. So the many responses are justified by the amount of people involved and interested in them. Clearly, we have a problem here! I guess, my hesitancy can be explained  by a perception of normalcy of the problem, resulting in more or less callous acceptance. Come to think of it, what a terrible way to live!

I am 25 years old. One can rightfully assume that I have been subjected to street harassment for over ten to fifteen years. Needless to say, it has become a part of my every-day life, a constant variable in the way I behave in public. For more than ten years I have been exposed to comments, leering, catcalling and groping, and I have learned to deal with that. I had to. Now, at 25 years old, I have graduated with honours in the art of making myself invisible in public (if I want to), but there are no rewards. The bullying continues, only now I am better at looking away, leaving, pretending to ignore it, but it has never stopped to bother me and it seldomly fails to lead to its most devious effect: I want to make myself smaller, hide inside myself, run away.

image via mensantiviolencecouncil.com

Normally, I would consider myself a strong, independent woman. I am an outspoken feminist. I never hide my political convictions. If justified, I talk back to my employers at work. I often call out people for misbehaving or making stupid remarks. And no, I am also not afraid to yell back at catcallers, when I feel safe enough. It makes me feel better about the situation, but there is nothing empowering about it. I still feel angry and humiliated, uncomfortable and exposed, and sadly, my body language in public has incorporated these fears.

On the train, I am often crouched in the corner of the seat, my legs and arms crossed, looking away. I don’t like waiting on the street; if I am early I prefer to go for a walk or “look busy” by playing games on my mobile phone. Hanging around unattended on the street is a surefire way of being approached by someone uncalled-for. I avoid making eye contact with men in public, and I try not to touch them accidentally. When men offer me anything in the street (a product, help) or want to ask me something, my initial reaction is to refuse. Immediately, my heart starts beating faster. When I go outside wearing short dresses or skirts, I prepare myself for unwanted attention.  At night, I change the side of the street in order not to run into approaching groups of men, or I avoid certain areas altogether. In my day to day life, I don’t think about the reasons for this behaviour and I don’t analyze its impact. It’s my life, my naturalized means for navigating public spaces with the least risk potential. It has become what the German blog High on Clichés calls a “second skin”.

Naturally, we all guard ourselves in public. It is the space in which we’re most vulnerable. But do men prepare themselves in this way, at every hour, every single day? (That’s not a rhetorical question; I’d really like to know.) How can it be that mere words can have such a violent impact on large amounts of people, yet there is rarely any backing from the public when incidents of sexual harassment occur (at least that’s my experience)?

The worst thing anyone can say about this issue is: “Men simply can’t help it.” It makes me feel so much more unsafe, having to accept that men are completely volatile predators. Fortunately, I know that this is untrue. Most men actually don’t harass women in the street, the same way as I don’t harass men. It would never occur to them; just like it doesn’t occur to me to yell “nice ass” at a guy with a nice ass. That doesn’t mean men aren’t allowed to look, and can’t enjoy a nice cleavage every once in a while, but there is such a thing as subtlety and simple human decency. It is something we all learn eventually, being social beings and all, some perhaps more so than others. But I believe there is a difference in how men take up public space as a matter of course, whereas women are often in a constant state of tension. I could go into the wider implications of this, but I suppose you all agree that this is a huge problem that needs to be addressed.

Nowadays, I feel like I can handle most forms of sexual harassment without being too shaken by it. But just because human beings are able to adapt themselves to most circumstances, it doesn’t mean they’re acceptable. Knowing that this behaviour is wrong and harmful is the first step to generate a culture that refuses to participate and citizens that will stand up to this injustice publicly. That this hasn’t happened yet is an outrage, but at least it’s better to be angry than scared.

Feel free to leave your thoughts and experiences in the comments below, but not without checking out this awesome Street Harassment Bullshit Bingo, created by High on Clichés (translation mine):

original via high on clichés

Why I might not attend the re:publica 2013

Some of you may have wondered about the meaning of the small banner on the top right of my homepage. My German readers probably knew what this is all about: Last week I went to the re:publica 2012, the largest German conference for the online community – bloggers, journalists and social media experts.

The conference had invited over 200 speakers from all over the world and topics included the usual – net politics and net freedom – as well as more concrete issues such as “handicapped accessibility” or “female trolling”. Because of the wide range of lectures and workshops everyone was sure to find something of interest. In three days I went to about 15 different sessions, some of which excited me more than others, but at the end of Day 3 I decided that I probably won’t return next year.

I’m not disappointed. I didn’t really have any particular expectations, but after having read so much about it (online, where else?) I simply wanted to see what it was like. I really enjoyed the diversity of the subjects covered, many of which related to topics that I care about, and perhaps that was the biggest problem. Naturally, I went to the sessions that I was most interested in, but it turns out I may have been too interested in them, because listening to the talks I couldn’t help but feel “underchallenged”. Most of the information given was so basic that anyone who frequently researches on Google (i.e. everyone at re:publica) would have already been familiar with it. The questions at the end often led into the right direction but before anything truly fruitful could develop, the session was already over. The really important stuff in my opinion, the political and philososphical implications of some of the issues, were hardly even touched upon.

Here are some thoughts I gathered over the three days:

1. Everyone is talking about preserving anonymity and fighting the constant threat to online privacy, but no one talks about the fact that there is a generation of “netizens” coming after us that simply doesn’t give a damn. 

2. Truly feminist topics were hardly represented. I overheard this was in part a reaction to last year’s reception of the sessions, but I don’t know any details. But an online conference that doesn’t feature net feminism is an outrage.

3. Online activism has to translate into offline activism. “Contact your representative” simply won’t do. Neither will “Join the Pirate Party”.

4. Why are European topics so marginalized? I have decided to identify as a “Euroblogger”, with all of its benefits and drawbacks (mostly drawbacks). I’m not willing to give up , but please, dear European online community, look beyond your own national interests, learn languages, translate and share. I know it’s hard – I don’t know Russian either – but we could learn so much from each other!

5. About self-publishing: e-books are not the only way to self-publish, and if you agree that being a writer is not about financial gains, why do you talk so goddamn much about money???

6. Last but not least, a big Thank you to some of the young men at the re:publica. A session on the “Future of Work” left be baffled by its ignorance of people with families, people in precarious work and uneducated people, unpaid care and house work, but I didn’t even have to complain; three young men did it for me and that made me very, very happy.

In conclusion, one could argue that I simply went to the wrong sessions, but it seems as though many others felt the same way, even though they went to a completely different program. Perhaps next year the slogan for the re:publica shouldn’t be “Action!” but “Reflection!”.

Clicktivism – The future of political action?

“Clicktivism” – really? Is that a thing now?

Well, apparently it is, and if you haven’t heard about it, chances are, you probably haven’t done it. Maybe you’re ignorant, maybe you’re simply too cynical, or you don’t know the internet (in which case you probably wouldn’t be reading this). Except for the ignorance part, these reasons are perfectly excusable in a society in which political action often seems futile or even counter-productive.

“Clicktivism”, on the other hand, sounds genius: all you have to do is sit in front of your computer, which many of us do anyway, and share some Youtube videos, “like” some Facebook pages and type your name under pre-written letters, petitions, flyers – voilà - you’ve just made the world a better place!

The cynic in me feels compelled to think: Surely things can’t be this easy! They never are.

But why not? Politics doesn’t always have to be difficult. The most basic political action in our democracies is as easy as putting a little cross next to a name. The process of voting is so simple, yet it is politics. In fact, I would even go so far as to state that everything you do is political anyway: having a debate with your mum is political, deciding to have one child instead of two is political, sharing your thoughts online is a political act (albeit a sometimes dangerous one).

clicktivism - so easy, a sleepy cat can do it. via imgfave.com

The question is whether or not these actions are followed by the desired results. I can rant all day about politics on social media; that in and of itself does not bring forth systemic change. Neither does voting. But that doesn’t mean it can’t make a difference.

“Clicktivism” can make a difference. It works, that is, when applied to the right goals. Look at the power of feminist uses of social media, look at the temporary prevention of ACTA. ACTA is an interesting case, because even though it did require offline activism to be brought to a temporary halt; the German government backed down even before the actual physical protests took place. “Clicktivism” can also raise awareness of issues that would otherwise go unnoticed, for example the anti-LGBT laws in Russia and Uganda.

Speaking of Uganda: make no mistake. Simply “raising awareness” can also go wrong and lead to rather misguided forms of activism, as illustrated by the recent KONY 2012 phenomenon. A bunch of young, well-connected guys with a (questionable) charity had the idea to spread the word about an injustice, and through the use of social media they created a world-wide (well, Western-wide) outcry about a man whose name most people had never heard of before. All of a sudden, teens and students who had never protested before and barely read the news, demanded governmental, even military, action to hunt this man down, a man who surely deserves to be punished, but why turn him into a 2012 Hitler?

The power of “clicktivism”? Hardly. The power of misinformation is more like it. The motivations and means of this political activist stunt have been questioned, and justifiably so; the attention brought to this case has been analyzed as potentially doing more damage than good (for a collection of criticisms directed at Invisible Children, the charity responsible for KONY 2012, see here). All the while people’s Facebook walls are plastered with a video and badges about a conflict they’ve had no other access to than this biased and ill-informing “campaign” (Campaign for what, one might ask. Ironically, the slogan of the video, website and Facebook page, even merchandise, is “KONY 2012″, not “Stop KONY”.)

idealized protest: kony 2012 via communicopia.com

actual protest: occupy wall street 2012 by cliff weathers via nyaltnews.com

But really, who can blame them? Everyone would like to do something good, and contribute at least their small part to make this world a tiny bit more just. Who has time to do in-depth research whenever a petition pops up online and the cause seems important?  Who makes the effort to drag their ass to a protest, to an activist organisation? Who wants to sit around freezing in a tent all day and be sprayed with pepper spray?

I agree with Angry Black Lady on this one: there are people who do just that and people who don’t, and those who don’t can at least do something by supporting those who are doing all the work for them, ideally including proper research. I don’t want to let anyone off the hook. People in the position to do so, have a responsibility to educate themselves. I will always support organizations and individuals who stimulate rather than discourage or detract from these ambitions, even if that means simplifying the message somewhat, but at some point the strategy has to go beyond the “Starbucks charity logic“.

After all, those who do engage in offline activism have always been going the extra mile and will continue to do so. They will write manifestos at night, they will gather in smelly classrooms to organize, they will risk their reputation, their commodities, their security and even their health to continue the fight. The option of signing petitions online is not going to change that. The so-called “Twitter revolution” in Tunisia was still fought in the streets.

Dreams, Doubts and Dependency: On working in the non-profit sector

Recently I experienced a rather disheartening setback. I was chosen to intern for an incredibly exciting new women’s rights organisation, scheduled to start this month. Long story short, the government cut the organisation’s funding this year, leaving a bunch of people without employment and me without an internship. I will not disclose the institution’s name here, because I don’t know how official this news is, but I still wanted to mention it, because it has been a serious reality check for me.

For quite a while now I have been dreaming of a career in non-profit management. I know that I need my future job to be meaningful, and I am not a very materialistic person. I didn’t think that my approach to this idea was naive or ill-informed; I didn’t feel like I had any illusions.

this is an origami unicorn to illustrate my hopes and illusions. you can find more wonderful examples by clicking on the image

This incident, however, has made me realize that not only was I planning on working in a sector with very few material rewards, it also offered little security. At the end of the day, no matter how important the work you’re involved in is, you are always dependent on keeping that money flow going, just like in any other business sector. That money may come from the government or from private sponsors, but it’s still money that dictates whether or not you are able to do what you want to do, and what you think is important and worthy of involvement.

I got really depressed for a few days. I wondered whether I had been building castles in the sky all this time, and whether what I really wanted to do was actually worth it. I told myself, I could still find something else to do, something a little more prospective. I wish I had skills (and passion) relating to technology, or science, or customer service. I blame my girl brain, or my gendered upbringing, that I am useless in jobs that actually pay. Or perhaps it’s just my subconscience telling me: “You’re not in it for the right reasons.”

So I am happy to let you know that these realizations have not made me want to give up, on the contrary. They will make me stronger in the long run, because I now have a better understanding of how to approach my career; I know now that I have to offer a lot more than just good intentions and idealism, and I am willing to go the extra mile, because knowing that I didn’t compromise my dreams and convictions will make it all worthwhile in the end.

In other, more hopeful news: I am excited to announce that I have been chosen to be one of six new junior editor interns for the wonderful blog Gender Across Borders. My first article is due to be published by the end of this month, so I will keep you posted.

You know what they say: Failure isn’t failure if other opportunities arise.

So long and keep up the good fight.

Barcamp Frauen 2011

Last Saturday I attended the Barcamp Frauen 2011 in Berlin, and no, it is not an ERASMUS party. To be honest, I had never been to a barcamp before and no one I asked had any clue what it was. Turns out it is an overall great idea, some sort of unconference, where the participants decide what should be talked about and are actively engaging in the debates. The upside is that you get to choose which workshops you are going to attend; on the downside, however, you often have to choose between two or more great sessions that happen at the same time. That was precisely my dilemma, and I am not sure I always made the right choice.

The first workshop I participated in was presented by a woman working for the German Trade Union Federation and was titled Work and Future – Future without work? The aim was to talk about women’s desire to have “everything”: a career, a loving partnership, children etc. How can this be achieved, can it be achieved at all and, perhaps more importantly, is it necessary to have to want all these things?

I figured this could be a good session for me to attend, considering that I have almost finished my studies with no clear plan of what to do next. Turns out I wasn’t the only one. At least twenty women attended the session, aged 15-45 and none of them seemed to be entirely sure of what the future might hold for them. Hopes and fears were exchanged between the not so carefree white girls, fuelled by personal stories and examples of structural discrimination.

I guess what irked me a little bit about the discussion was the matter of course way in which we talked about having a career, when so many people these days are struggling just to have a job. Of course, we were discussing these issues because we could, and we should be very happy about that. Nevertheless, the overall mood was defined by uncertainty and worriedness.

I talked to a woman in her mid-thirties who had been successful in the career of her choice and was hoping to have children one day. However, she was well aware of her ticking biological clock and her lack of a partner to start a family with. I listened to a woman who managed to leave the Turkish village she was born in to become a well-respected academic who just had her second child at the age of 41. A success story, one might think, but she still worried about being an “old mum” and having waited too long to have children.

The one thing we could all agree on was that no life is perfect and that there are different paths in life to becoming happy. However, the one thing that almost no one could imagine was having children and a successful career at the same time. The main obstacles were easily identified as structural and systemic problems that cannot be eliminated straight away. So what’s a girl to do if she “wants it all”? Get informed, be aware, find allies and put pressure on employers, political leaders and partners.

After lunch break I only managed to go to one other session which was about feminist politics on the web. Unfortunately much of the time was wasted trying to establish the average web and tech-savviness of the group, and discussing data privacy protection for half an hour made me wish I had gone to “Radical feminist muslima” instead. Nevertheless, I truly enjoyed this event, I got to know some fantastic women, and felt inspired to contribute more to next year’s barcamp – perhaps by offering a workshop myself?

You can find pictures and more info on the respective Facebook page (which is down at the moment, I don’t know why). I am not in any of the photographs, which is a good thing considering I was suffering from a major hangover and was still wearing last night’s make-up. Thanks, sis’.

Slutwalk Paris – 1 October 2011

They couldn’t have picked a better day: sunshine, 28 degrees, a gentle breeze. Everyone would be outside on this last weekend of summer, so why not walk through the city and make a statement?

Having missed out on this summer’s Slutwalk in Berlin, which drew a large amount of people and even more media attention, I was excited to find out that Paris would have its own Slutwalk and that I would be able to participate. I was curious to see how it would turn out, what impact it would have in the city where Second Wave feminism originated in Europe.

all photographs taken by clemens porikys

Unfortunately, my first impression was disappointing. Not many people had shown up (sixty to eighty perhaps, not counting the press(wo)men) and the gathering of young women in short skirts wearing heart-shaped balloons resembled more a birthday party than a group of militant activists. It stood very much in contrast to my memory of the protest against the media response to the DSK affair, which had been a lot more energetic, unifying and angry, though not aggressive. The cause had been quite similar: fighting sexism and violence towards women, stop blaming victims and trivializing rape. So what went wrong?

I certainly appreciate and applaud everyone taking on the responsibility of organizing such an event, but in the case of Slutwalk Paris it could have been executed a bit more cleverly. What struck me as particularly odd was that hardly any of the well-known and well-organized feminist associations in Paris seemed to be present. Ni Putes Ni Soumises had sent some delegates; others such as Osez le Feminisme and La Barbe did either not know about it or ignored it deliberately…(?) The inclusion of these as well as other activist groups would certainly have been beneficial, not just regarding the number of participants but also to their diversity. The homogeneity of the protesters (most of them young, white, slim and able-bodied, myself included) does not represent the vast majority of victims of sexual violence, which subtracted from its potential significance.

But there we walked, down Boulevard Montparnasse and Boulevard St. Michel, where we did get some attention from pedestrians, including spontaneous participation. When a middle-aged woman asked about the motive for this demonstration and it was explained to her, she immediately expressed her support. Those were the highlights of a protest, that could have benefited from a couple of inspiring speeches to create the passion and energy needed to really get the movement started here in France.

Overall, the atmosphere was good and everyone seemed to have good time, even though I am not sure that that is the desired effect of a protest. In the end, everyone let go of their balloons in an attempt of symbolism, satisfying both the photographers and curious tourists. In any case, there is room for improvement and I hope that next time I can contribute more than just post-event criticism.